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[rubistella]

Independent, selective Astarion Ancunin rp blog.

Written by Milky 21+. Mdni

travelling with: Raphael

● rules 　● 　verses　●　headcanons ● disclaimer

[flamesofavernus]

Marcellus x Astaria

Full image (NSFT)

For my darling kitten @rivenrose. Happy Sinday! 🌹

[flamesofavernus]

Marcellus(Tav)/Astarion

Full image [x]

[flamesofavernus]

Hi! For a very limited time I am opening up commissions to subsidise some funding. I've been chatting for a while about opening them up, but this isn't something I do very often. If you are interested in snagging a slot, please let me know soon. You may see more of my commission details here. (Warning: there's a NSFT section right at the bottom)

[majelia-art]

The monster you want me to be.

[pcrtalgcn-archived]

When the hand draped over his own, Rick almost jumped for more than one reason. It'd been a long time since he was willing to let anyone touch him. Not even in fights. He always spoke of himself as untouchable. An enigma of a man. And secondly, that cold skin was a bit of a surprise.

And he couldn't help to zero in on that fang.

"More or less, I've built a few things that changed the multiverse -- for better or worse, it's hard to say," He shrugged, taking out the portal gun from it's holder that strapped against his thigh. "It's called a portal gun, it takes the user anywhere and everywhere,"

Maybe it was easier to explain than he thought.

Leaning in, his voice dropped down into some more husky. "But if you really want to be impressed, come back to my hideout and you'll see so much more." A double meaning, perhaps, but he was eager to show off his work; first and foremost.

[rubistella]

Astarion didn’t miss it, that faint twitch, that flinch… It was as though the man’s skin had forgotten the language of touch. His smirk curved sharper for it, laced with that spark of curiosity. Not used to being handled, are we?

How delicious.

“My apologies, did I…?” He tilted his head, let the words taper into silence, the rest written across his face in languid amusement. Did I frighten you, darling? No need to say it. Let him stew in the implication, suspended. Then, the subject shifted, naturally, back to this strange man’s place in the world. “So, you’re an inventor then.” Astarion concluded. “Anywhere at all, you say? How very, very interesting…”

Anywhere. He lingered on the possibilities. Anywhere that wasn’t under Cazador’s heel, perhaps?

Anywhere he could finally breathe.

“…I should so very like to accompany you, my dear.” The finger resting on top of the man’s hand drew circles over his skin. “Why ever not? Show me everything.” Dangerous? Of course. But then, what wasn’t?

Astarion had nothing left to lose…

Wasn’t that its own kind of freedom?

[fiendishfinesse]

𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 : 𝔯𝔞𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 × his little star astarion

Raphael remained reclined, a satisfied king, sheets pooling around his waist. He tasted the vampire’s words as he would a fine wine: the notes of ambition, the sharp tang of fear, the sweetness of desperation.

Golden, hellish eyes slid open and fixed upon the pale elf. A lazy smile played at the corner of his lips, arrogantly affectionate. The hand Astarion had placed on his chest was met with his own, fingers lacing through the vampire’s.

“How thoughtful of you. You do have a flair for presentation.” He squeezed Astarion’s fingers in a subtle reminder of the strength coiled beneath his graceful, yet rested poise. “And I do adore a romantic gesture, however hollow.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow.

“But you fret, little bat. It’s unbecoming.” His gaze drifted over Astarion’s face. “You question my integrity? After all this?” A florid wave of his hand pointed to the decadent disarray of the bed, of them. “You wound me. I always deal fairly.”

The lie was as smooth and beautiful as the rest of him. In a way, it was not a lie at all, but there were always fine prints with the devil. Clever wordplay, loopholes spun. One did not ascend as a respected half-devil in the Hells without making an art of it.

Being the son of a powerful Archfiend meant nothing if one reeked of incompetence or weakness—especially with the stain of a mortal half-heart.

“The worm is a trifle, a maggot to be plucked out, a simple matter of pest control. It will be gone.” That, at least, was completely true. No tadpoles.

His thumb stroked the back of Astarion’s hand slowly before he took it to his lips, branding it with a kiss. “Now, now. . . your other problem.” O seu desafeto

A genuine, cruel delight sparked in his eyes, along with a flicker of hellfire in their depths. “I would not dream of robbing you of that moment. That is the climax of your little tragedy. I am merely the playwright, setting the stage. You will stand before him. You will have your vengeance, and I will be there to watch you do it.” A flash of sharp teeth cut through the curve of his coy, almost sadistic smile. “And when the final, pathetic little light leaves his eyes. . .you will belong entirely to me. Unburdened. Unclaimed by any but the devil himself.” Mine alone

He let the silence stretch, a final, damning clause in their unspoken contract. 

“So hold up your end, bring me my prize, and I shall deliver you the world. It is, after all, a devil’s promise. . .and so much more.” Another kiss pressed against back of pale hand.

[rubistella]

“We agreed on five years, devil.” Astarion purred, a reminder cloaked in sweet indulgence. He let Raphael’s hand linger on his own, a weight he might have shrugged off if not for the mask Astarion had chosen to worn from the moment he’s met this man. There was a role to play here, after all—loyal hound, gracious consort. One bows when asked to kneel, bends when asked to break.

The trick is to make it look like devotion.

“Nothing more. Five years already promises to feel like eternity, with freedom dangling just shy of my grasp.” The vampire’s smile thinned, sugar over arsenic.

What was the point of longing, if not for the taste of it? He hadn’t clawed out of one master’s bed just to roll over for another. No… should Raphael’s leash ever tighten too much, he’d find the contract, reduce it to cinders, and laugh while the devil swallowed the ash.

So instead of pulling away, Astarion stilled, offering his hand as though the ring—shadow-cloaked and unyielding—were a gift he bestowed rather than a shackle he endured.

“Don’t start rewriting our arrangement now, my sweet…” Drawled sweet, but dripping in poison. “I am a luxury few can afford. And once I ascend, when I prize that power from beneath the bastard’s nose, what I will hunger for most is freedom.” 

A promise, or a warning, depending on how Raphael chose to hear it.

[fiendishfinesse]

📱 Modern AU / Phone Message to: Astarion Contact Name: Bloodsucker Deluxe

[ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: I could buy the vineyard. I could damn it, curse it, and turn the entire staff into sentient corkscrews, Astarion. But that's hardly the point. [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: The point is: I labelled that bottle. With a gold ribbon. A warning glyph. A damn Post-it. Meant for special occasions.

[ file attachment opened ] [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: Ah. Yes. [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: Thank you, again, for the very unsolicited tit pic. [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: It did somehow open on my tablet as well. Which, of course, was screen-shared to the entire conference room. [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: I will attend the show. [ 𝐓𝐗𝐓 ]: Strictly to CHOKE you in the dressing room.

He is not that savvy with technology, no.

[rubistella]

📱 Modern AU / Phone

Message to: Raphael Contact Name: Rawr

[txt]: I was going to ask you to wine and dine me before the choking, but then again, I did help myself to the wine already, didn’t I? [txt]: And what did they say? When they saw my picture, I mean. [txt]: Well, don’t be shy now. You can’t just hoard such deliciously scandalous information all to yourself. [txt] That’s hardly fair.

[rubistella]

@bloominghands sent:

Carefully weaving flowers into Astarion’s hair to ensure it keeps it’s style but also has many pretty blooms 🥰

“Well, aren’t you in a whimsical mood...” Astarion angled his head just enough to make room for the next daisy. “This is either part of your natural madness, charming honestly, or the sun kissed you a little too hard this morning.”

And yet, Astarion remained perfectly still, letting Robin weave blossoms through his curls. Why not? It looked like she was having fun and he could always undo the damage… Hopefully.

“So... How do I look? Am I a woodland delight yet, or have I finally become one with the shrubbery?”

[rubistella]

@fiendishfinesse sent:

(modern au on mobile)

[ TXT ]: You drank the last of my wyvern-blood chardonnay. I know it was you. Replace it or I'll start billing you in soul coins. [ TXT ]: And do stop sending me shirtless selfies while I'm in the office attending to clients.

Astarion’s first instinct, naturally, was to lie. Blame the butler, or the maid, or some poor, faceless intern with clammy hands and no sense of boundaries. Instead, a sigh slumped his shoulders and Astarion’s head fell back against the couch as though the weight of his existence had suddenly triplicated.

As it would seem, the rest of the band was far too stoned to notice… One was halfway through a bag of Cheetos as if that was a religious experience, the bass guy was playing a chord that had yet to be invented. Perfect. Nobody to witness the vampire’s attention slipping.

Thumbing open his phone’s screen, some picture of the band’s logo, and Astarion’s fingers quickly flitted all over, firing off the text.

[txt]: Don’t be such a wet blanket, darling. It’s not like you couldn’t buy the whole vineyard yourself.

 [txt]: file attachment sent 🍷

[txt]: So, are you coming to the show, or should I tell the venue to padlock the mirrors before you get caught with your own reflection again?

[lightmare000]

The ghouls working hours.🩸🧟‍♀️🧟‍♂️

[stardustmcde]

Inching forward, leaned a bit closer, he spoke. "Then I guess you know all there is to know," And lucky for him, he wouldn't have to bore his new acquaintance with long winded information.

Instead, they could get right to the good part.

"Not really," He curled his fingers into his palm. "A lot of people either hate me or want me dead, but I guess it's because they can't handle me imposing my will on them," Another lazy shrug.

The word power caught his attention, causing bright blue eyes to electrify with life. "Oh, baby, I have power and lots of it. Maybe I can show you all that I can do. From gadgets, to my robots, my enhanced abilities, my regeneration power. All of it."

[rubistella]

They feared him, hated him, or they wanted his head on the chopping block. That was the general rhythm of things… This one, though? He didn’t fit the cadence. Not yet at least. And while there might have been something about that inflated ego that Astarion took mental note of, it didn’t seem to put him off.

Confidence was something he admired in a man.

This man though, he spoke in crooked sentences and strange, shimmering logic, like language being bent into unfamiliar lingo just to amuse him. Astarion didn’t understand a word of it, still… there was appreciation to be had in that which was unknown.

“Tell me, my dear, are you some kind of brilliant inventor then? Gods, I sure hope so.” Astarion’s smile showed a fang, hand finding the other’s without ceremony, settling atop it. The first thing this man would have noticed was just how stupidly cold Astarion’s skin was.

Almost like a corpse’s.

“I do so adore a man who builds things no one else comprehends.” A pause, then—measured, indulgent. “Go on, darling…” The drawl in the vampire’s voice was almost hypnotic—not in any real, magical sense, but rather in its velvety allure. “Impress me.”

@infinctyprime

[halsins]

            “Mm… yes. Count Sassula suits you. Regal, dramatic, and absolutely insufferable. I think I shall make it official.” He lifts a brow, calm as ever. "But on second thought, you're more like a peacock in heat. All flounce, feathers, and an unbearable need to be observed." A beat passes, "Tell me—do you preen before feeding, or is it part of the ritual?" @rubistella

[rubistella]

“Careful now, Lord of the Leaves. One more pun and I might mistake you for a sentient greeting card.” Despite his words, there was a chuckle. “But you do seem an awful observant… I’d say all this preening has been quite effective, wouldn’t you?” It was true. Even now, he was basking in it as if Halsin’s stare was the sun, baking his skin warmly in an early morning day.

[pyrateko]

Who knows how much longer I'll lay on the floor

Touch me till I vomit

I'm not scared of god, I'm scared he was gone all along

INPRNT | Twitter | Insta

[sialyxz]

𝔻𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕖

[rubistella]

Fixes a loose strand of hair.

@furyofavernus ❤️ || unprompted

“Well, I’m positively thrilled my hair survived that. I was starting to picture myself bald.” Astarion casts Karlach a sidelong glance. “It feels nice, doesn’t it? Being able to touch someone without accidentally setting them on fire. How novel that must feel.”

[bloominghands]

⟡ 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 for @rubistella

For someone who did their best to be careful, how Robin managed to find herself in situations like this was beyond her.

Abducted by interdimensional creatures, a parasite placed oh so tenderly within her ocular socket, and then suddenly becoming part of a band of other survivors like herself…it was enough to process for ages.

But they didn’t have ages, none of them did. There was no time to think and barely any to breathe. How long would it be before tentacles burst from her skull and left her life’s work unfinished? How long before whatever was keeping the worm’s devouring presence at bay faded and took everything?

It was such that kept her moving, kept her on her feet, calm, and decisive. There was no room for panic.

Fingers wrapping around the worn material of her staff, the elven sorceress’s steps continued through the shade of the Underdark, her three other party members close behind as they picked their way forward.

Tired golden gaze then finally falls upon a clearing of sorts in between the numerous rock and fungi, and an exhale quietly leaves her lungs before she's glancing back over her shoulder.

“A decent place to camp as any for the night, I suppose. Shall we?”

[rubistella]

Astarion expected more dramatics, honestly. A stake through the ribs in his sleep, or at the very least Lae’zel muttering something guttural thought about honour and decapitation. But so far, there was nothing. Suspicion, yes. Eyes that lingered just long enough on his hands to suggest they were wary. But the sword stayed sheathed, and stakes unsharpened.

Setting up camp was easy. Gale flicked spells like a man trying to make comfort look effortless, Karlach tossed logs into the pit with the ease of someone who knew how to build warmth, not just survive it, and the fire caught fast, licking steam from the damp stone like it knew better than to wait. The Underdark was always cold. But when the wind curled in from above, found little slits in the rock to crawl through—it became a cruelty. 

Later—once the bedrolls were unfurled and the smell of cooked meat drifted away—he made his way toward Robin. Quiet footsteps, not by design but by nature. Astarion never quite meant to creep, but there it was.

“You didn’t seem bothered.” A pause. The kind that left room for judgment to bloom, or die. “That I’m a vampire, I mean. I can see the others are still watching. Like I might slip into their tents at night, crawl beneath the blankets, and rip out their throats.” That’s when he smiled. That smile designed for courtrooms and confessionals. “At least now I get to use the fangs properly,” he added, softer. “Drink from our enemies... Never go hungry again.”

And then he laughed. A laugh smoothed out over centuries, designed to keep everything at arm’s length. Even guilt. But underneath all that polish was something rough… feral. That part of him still unsure whether he was grateful for their mercy… or furious it was offered.