#THIS DRAWING HEALED MY TRAUMA AND CLEARED MY SKIN

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 5: Soaked in Desire

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.6K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

Please be warned - this chapter gets a little more graphic than previous chapters. Read at your own risk.

Aldous gives you another unconcealed, odious ogle. It makes your stomach churn. He looks at you like you’re nothing, but a piece of meat and he’s famished. He glowers are you threateningly, and you draw on the Weave almost unconsciously. You shift your position, straightening your spine until you’re standing as tall as you can, and squaring your shoulders.

The grand blazing inferno of your magic implores to be used. With a sneer, you stifle the compulsion to incinerate this miserable creep where he stands. Despite your restraint, the churning repugnance for this man causes your skin to alight ablaze under his provocative lour.

I should wipe him from this realm.

“My lady,” he tries to bow but stumbles forward, snorting to himself immersed in his insobriety.

“Go home, Aldous. You’re not thinking clearly.”

His words slur together as they roll off his alcohol-soaked, lax tongue, “Who could think clearly with such an enchanting woman near.”

Good Gods. I want to be sick.

“Go home.”

You say it in a low warning with a dangerous scowl adorning the usually delicate features of your face, having had quite enough of his dopey eyes stripping you bare.

“Your scales reflect the firelight ravishingly,” he takes a couple of lumbering, unsteady steps toward you, making you reflexively back away, “I do wonder, Saer, where else is your body embellished with such silky splendour.”

Your skin crawls as Aldous’s goggling, bulging eyes skim covetously over your frame. Your jaw clenches, and you grit your teeth as your stomach turbulently heaves.

“Is it true your ancestor fucked a dragon, or perhaps a dragon fucked your ancestor? The texts are not quite clear on the subject.”

Your palms heat so blisteringly hot they begin to glow in the murky darkness, and you ball them into fists at your side. You would usually never allow someone to speak to you in such a grotesque fashion, but retaliation was out of the question. If you hurt him, it could be traced back to you and, by extension, Gale, and you couldn’t risk it.

“I do not believe my ancestors or my origins are any of your concern. Leave me be.”

“Saer,” the way he says it sounds almost like a slanderous statement now, “I have not met many with a dragon in their ancestry, even in a city as big as this. Tell me, does that fiery temper extend to the bedroom? Do you erupt in a blazing glory when you spasm with your crescendo?”

Your stomach wretches so violently that you dry-heave. The burning disgust in your blood sparks in a berserk, ruthless surge, and your body suddenly feels like it’s fabricated of flame alone. Your skin crawls with the licking sensation of fire.

You cringe and shudder as you curb your instinctual desire to show him exactly what your blazing glory is capable of.

Aldous shambles forward as he reaches for you, and you jump backwards, “Do not touch me.”

“Sorceress, don’t play coy. I know somewhere we could go, somewhere private .”

He tries to wink, but his muscles can’t discern what exactly he’s asking them to do, and his face contorts awkwardly.

“No,” you growl through clenched teeth.

He takes another step toward you. Your body shakes with ever-increasing adrenaline and fury as this predator advances on you. You could end him here and now, and you would savour his burning demise, relish in it, but you suppress the urge of your twitching palm.

If I retaliate, it’s asking for trouble, and I can’t bring that to Gale’s doorstep.

“I believe the lady said no.” Astarion’s voice resounds from the murky darkness of the alley to your side, and your nerves rejoice in the sharp-edged, protective intonation.

You want to run to him, to be wrapped up in the safety he promises, but keep yourself firmly planted on the rigid ground with your fists balled up at your sides, leering at the soused noble threatening you.

Astarion stalks out of the alleyway with his scarlet eyes trained on Aldous. His jaw is clenched tightly, muscles vacillating the otherwise calm air.

With the sudden appearance, Aldous balks slightly, “Of course,” he laughs raucously, “the sorceress is a friend. We are just fooling around.”

Astarion stares at Aldous like an apex predator observing his next meal. Aldous sucks in a sharp breath and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling to his arse on the hard stone pavement. You stifle a laugh.

Maybe I don’t scare him, but Astarion definitely does.

Astarion slips his hand into yours, once again interlocking your fingers together.

He winces slightly and leans close, “Cool down, darling. You’re burning me."

It takes you a moment to realize just how hot you’re burning. Your skin feels like a channel of molten flames. You try to pull away from him when you discern you’re hurting him, but Astarion holds your hand firmly and unwavering, not allowing you to retreat.

With a deep breath, you focus and take control of your innate ability and force your skin to cool.

“Do you want me to,” he pauses, “take care of this sod?”

Yes.

You yearn to see Astarion gut the wretched noble like a fish. You’re no stranger to death or murder. Some viewed you as the hero of Baldur’s Gate, but the undeniable truth is that you were never a hero. You have lived long enough to know that sometimes death and killing are necessary. It was an unspoken understanding and had drawn Astarion to you in the first place.

“No, he’s not worth the trouble. I would like to go home.”

“As you wish. One moment, my dear.”

Astarion lets go of your hand and strides confidently over to Aldous, who is still staring at you intensely with hate brimming in his eyes from the ground.

You hear the whistling trill of a blade being drawn. Astarion plays with his dagger dangerously, twirling it around skilfully in his hands while he crouches menacingly beside Aldous.

Should I stop him?

Nah.

He drags the tip of his dagger down over Aldous’s body, starting from the collar of his doublet to his stomach, before applying just enough pressure so that Aldous can feel the razor-sharp dagger tip well but not enough to tear fabric or flesh.

“If I see you joking with your friend like that again, I will be forced to spill your vile innards all over this lovely stone. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Aldous stares at the dagger digging into his stomach with widened eyes, tears brimming in them, and his mouth drops open in a silent scream.

“Nod you if you understand me,” Astarion growls ominously.

Aldous nods frantically, tears starting to slip down his cheeks.

Astarion smirks, pleased with the fear he’s instilling in the young man, “Good lad. Now, remind me, what does no mean?”

Aldous’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, but fear constricts his throat, and no words spill out.

Astarion snarls, teeth bared, “Say it.”

“No.”

“I don’t think I heard you clearly - say it again.”

“It means no.”

Astarion stands, towering over Aldous, “You owe my friend your life.”

Astarion turns swiftly, his hand outstretched, and you take it, disappearing with him into the dark streets. When you glance back at Aldous, he sits on the ground, chest heaving, while he glowers at you with brimming hatred in his protruding eyes.

I doubt that’s the last of him.

Walking hand-in-hand down the darkened streets towards the manor with Astarion feels like a dream. The liquor still swimming around hot in your belly numbs your fears.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, “I’m fine. He’s hardly a threat, just another drunk noble who has a dismal concept of the meaning of no.”

“Who is he?”

“The son of the man who owns the bookstore Gale frequents, Aldous Blackwell.”

“I see… and he’s also your… friend?”

It’s official - I hate that word.

You recoil noticeably, “Absolutely not. He assisted me in the bookstore a couple of times, nothing more.”

“Have you told him that?”

You roll your eyes at him, “Gods.”

“A jest, my dear. Your distaste for him was obvious. I’ve never felt your skin burn quite so stiflingly, and I’ve felt just how hot you can get,” he winks, “Have you been holding out on me?”

You recall Astarion wincing when he touched you, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, darling. I’m fine, but you likely would have scorched the skin off of that man.”

“One can only hope.”

He laughs, “You will tell me if that lout troubles you again, won’t you? I would enjoy killing him.”

“So would I.”

Astarion stops quickly and tugs your arm so that you fall into him. The back of his fingers caress your cheek delicately. His scarlet eyes ripple with concern as they search your face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, “I’m okay, Astarion. Really.”

He nods and places a chaste, short kiss on your lips, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

When you arrive at the manor, Astarion walks you to your room.

“What about your prize? You won tonight, and we never discussed it. What did you win?”

“My prize, darling, was spending the night in your delightful company. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

You bathe, change and climb into your bed but lay awake. A part of you sulks that Astarion hadn’t chosen you as his prize.

Well, not in the sense I want anyway.

Probably for the best.

The anesthetizing effects of the liquor are starting to wane, and your resolve is tottering. All your heartache and fears cascade in a downpour once again.

Friends.

Astarion’s words hang in your mind, “my wife.”

Friends.

The word echoing in your thoughts makes you wince. Your face twists into a cringe as if the very idea of being his friend leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

I don’t want to be simply his friend.

Fear bubbles and curdles up in you like a boiling cauldron at the realization. Fear that chains you, binding you to this broken-hearted, jaded person you’ve become.

This has to stop. This scared, unhappy person is not who I am.

You have let your fear consume you whole. You let it drag you down into this bog you have been calling existence. It has stolen all the joy and colour from your life, turning it into shades of grey. Your past self would be ashamed of the person you’ve become.

No more.

No more running.

Your meditative trance creeps in as your body finally starts to settle, and with a deep, calming breath, you let it take you away without a fight.  

Gale sits at the table while you prepare lunch for the both of you. You can barely recall the last time you even bothered making food.

“You seem rather chipper this afternoon. Are you feeling alright?”

Setting the food down, you draw in a deep breath, “I owe you an apology, Gale.”

“Whatever for?”

“I’ve been an all-together terrible guest. I haven’t been myself for quite some time, and I’m sorry for how I’ve acted since I’ve been here.”

“Are you ill? Should I write Shadowheart?”

You laugh, “Perhaps. It would be nice to see her.”

“She misses you. She said you haven’t been answering her letters.”

Another friend I’ve pushed away.

“I will write her, but first, I need to make things right with you.”

“As much as I do appreciate the apology, there’s truly no need. I am no stranger to sinking into the darkness of one’s own desolation,” he smiles, “I’m just glad you’re crawling your way back out again.”

“Thank you, Gale.”

Gale grins widely, “Anytime, my friend. Anytime. So, what brought this on? Do I have our fanged friend to thank for this?”

You laugh, “Not entirely. You actually have yourself to thank. I have been shackled to my fear for too long. You pointed that out.”

“I am rather wise from time to time, aren’t I?”

“From time to time.”

“And have you decided what you’re going to do about…” Gale trails off, looking unsure.

“Astarion?”

He nods.

Yes. No. Maybe?

“Not exactly. I still need to speak with him. Only time will tell if there can be any future for us.”

“If anyone can make it work with that immortal bastard, it’s you.”

You and Gale laugh, but a harsh, loud knock at the door interrupts your mirth.

Gale eyes the door, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. You aren’t?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Another booming knock echos through the entryway.

“I best go see who that is. Thank you for the lunch. You actually prepare food quite well. Who would have known?”

You smirk and roll your eyes, “I’m going to pretend I don’t hear surprise tinging your voice.”

Gale disappears down the hall in a hurry to answer the ceaseless, booming knocking shaking the door. Raised voices drift from the bright foyer, catching your attention. Walking down the corridor, Mr. Blackwell’s angry face comes into view, and your heart pounds in your chest.

That little worm.

Gale runs his fingers through his hair, “I think there must be a misunderstanding.”

“My son said someone in the company of your sorceress assaulted him and threatened his life!”

“Mr. Blackwell, I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and Astarion is standing on the stairs, well away from the sunlight streaming from the open door.

If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take him to prison…

“It was me!” You blurt out.

Astarion shakes his head, narrowing his eyes, warning you not to take the blame. You scramble out the door into the sunlight before he can pull you away.

“It was me. I assaulted Aldous.”

Gale bulks at you wide-eyed, confusion pulling his brow down in the furrow.

Mr. Blackwell narrows his eyes at you, “No. Aldous specifically said it was a man, a tall Elf with red eyes.”

You seethe, “Aldous was quite drunk. He could barely stand. His memory can’t be trusted.”

“My boy does not lie!”

“But he does drink, no? Heavily, might I add, and then speak salaciously to people? He spoke his filth to the wrong woman last night, and I taught him a lesson you have failed to teach him.”

“You dare accuse my son of this heinous behaviour?!” Mr. Blackwell spits out harshly, “I’m sorry, Gale. I will be reporting this to the authorities. We are friends, but I cannot let this slight on my family go.”

“Surely, we can work this out without involving the authorities. I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding.”

Gale nudges you, trying to get you to play along.

You swallow the hatred rising in your throat and force a smile, mustering every ounce of charisma available to you, “Yes, of course. Perhaps I overreacted. I do have a fiery temper, after all.”

I need to smooth this over.

Gritting your teeth, you coat your voice in your most persuasive tone, putting your silver tongue to use once again, “I will come to apologize to Aldous. If you will allow it, of course.”

At the reassuring cadence of your voice, Mr. Blackwell’s scowl eases up, and he thinks, “Yes, an apology might just suffice. I will speak to my son. If he agrees, perhaps we can deal with this incident civilly between friends.”

Friends. Ugh. That word is everywhere.

Mr. Blackwell departs with a huff, his nose held up in a snobby, holier-than-though expression that makes you want to throw a fireball at him.

Gale closes the door, and Astarion races down the stairs as soon as the sun is blocked.

“What in the Hells do you think you’re doing?!”

His brows are pulled down in a frightful scowl, his teeth bared.

“I’m dealing with it.”

“I will not let you apologize to that wretch.”

Gale interrupts, “Would one of you care to explain to me what has happened?”

Astarion looks at him, “I threatened the boy last night.”

“Yes, I surmised that much, but why?”

You run your hand over your face, “Aldous was drunk and getting rather… belligerent. You know I’ve rebuffed him enough times. I think he took offence.”

“For the love of…” Gale’s hand pinches the bridge of his nose, “You did quite well persuading Mr. Blackwell. Not that I am surprised, of course. I have seen you talk yourself out of far worse situations.”

“And I will talk my way out of this one.”

“No!” Astarion shouts, “You should not have to atone for my conduct.”

“Do you trust me, Astarion?”

He blinks, “Of course.”

“Then trust me to take care of this as I would trust you to pick a lock, pick a pocket or disarm a trap. Charming people is my talent.”

“Ugh,” he sighs, “I do not like this.”

Gale pipes up, “If what you say is true, nor do I.”

They would gang up on me, but at least they agreed on something. Small miracles, right?

“Both of you forget who you’re speaking to sometimes, I swear. I’ve made my choice, and your objections are noted.”

Gale and Astarion’s mouths open to argue with you further, but you put up your hand and stop them, “I will hear no more on the subject.”

They both glower at you. Gale and Astarion both huff exasperatedly and shake their heads.

Did I just shut Gale and Astarion up simultaneously? 

With you putting a halt to any further discussion, Gale excuses himself to visit with his mother on the upper floors of the tower. Astarion snickers, and you frown a warning at him. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you.

If he had it his way, he would be mocking Gale right this minute.

You can see Astarion listening to Gale’s footsteps as they scuff across the top floors of the manor, his eyes following the sound before darting back to you with a frown.

“You’re a bloody fool, you know that?”

“I said no more discussion. My mind is made up, and it’s not going to change.”

Astarion smirks, “We could simply kill him and his father now, I suppose."

You give him a shove, and he smiles at you slyly. Your moral compass is not exactly pointing straight. You’re not averse to killing, and you never have been. You kill mercilessly and without guilt when the situation calls for it, but you do attempt not to spill blood unless necessary.

Well… most of the time.

“No, I don’t believe this situation calls for killing. At least, not yet.”

He pouts, “Pity.”

Returning to the kitchen, you try to enjoy the rest of your lunch that was so rudely interrupted. Astarion sits at the table with a brooding glower on his face.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“You did no such thing,” you smile playfully, “I rather enjoyed seeing him terrified, crying and whimpering like the child he is.”

“I’m glad I was able to provide you some fine entertainment during our little outing.”

He’s going to try and talk me out of it.

Astarion takes your hand across the table, “Darling, don’t do this, please.”

There it is.

“I’ve made my mind up. This is the best way to handle it, and I think you know that. If Mr. Blackwell goes to the authorities, they will take you to prison.”

“My dear, I’ve never met a cell I can’t escape.”

“It’s not worth the risk, Astarion. I need you to trust me on this.”

“I trust you implicitly,” he scowls, “It’s the boy I don’t trust.”

“Astarion.”

“Ugh, yes, “my objections are noted,” he mocks you, “Stubborn little thing.”

You flash him your most angelic smile. He groans, leaning back in his chair, defeated.

“I’m going back to bed. The knocking woke me, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Sleep like the dead, darling!” You imitate him.

He smirks, “Hilarious."

Returning to your room, you light the fire and a candle by your bedside. Pulling out a stack of letters, you slip onto your bed and stare at them. Your fingers caress the rough parchment. Shadowheart has been writing you, but you’d left them piling up for months unopened and unread. It wasn’t something you did intentionally. Every time a letter came in, you intended to read it, but somehow, it ended up on the stack with all the others you had planned to read.

Some friend I am.

It takes hours to read through every letter, and by the time you’re ready to write her back, your hand hesitates over the blank paper. You aren’t entirely sure what you would like to say.

You and Shadowheart had been close. She had been one of your best friends, but you had pushed her away just like you had pushed everyone else away in your self-imposed stockade of misery.

A knock on your doorframe escorts you out of your thoughts in a hurry. Astarion stands at the precise of your open door.

“When you have a moment, I would like to speak with you.”

You’re face flushes, and you feel like your heart skips several beats before settling into a vicious rhythm. Your chest constricts against your raging heart, and your throat feels tight. Every nerve in your body hums, and you shake all over.

He’s leaving.

“I have a moment now. Where do you want to talk?”

“My room. Come.”

Following Astarion down the hall to his room feels very much like walking to your death. The hallway feels far too small, and the ceiling too low. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you. Your thoughts spiral out of your control as the anxiety coils in your stomach.

We need to talk?

He’s going to run, isn’t he?

What did I do now?

What did I say?

Tears are already threatening to spill out of your eyes, but you try to blink them away. You’re lower lip quivers uncontrollably.

Astarion closes the door behind you, and you stand with your arms wrapped around you, trying to calm your urge to run.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes meet yours, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you running again?”

Astarion eyebrows rise in shock, and he crosses the room in long strides, wrapping you up in his arms, and you bury your face into him, “Hells, you’re trembling all over.”

“Are you leaving me again, Astarion?”

You can’t keep your tears back, and they start gliding down your reddened cheeks.

“Darling, look at me.”

Fear paralyzes your mind and body. His words seem far away, and you don’t comprehend them.

“Look at me, my love,” his cool hand cradles your face, and he gently directs your eyes to his, “I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”

Promise?

Astarion doesn’t make promises unless he knows he can keep them.

Astarion fingers brush away your tears, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“If it’s not that, what did you want to speak about? If this is about Aldous-”

“No, my dear. I know you well. Trying to change your mind would be nigh on impossible. No, I wanted to talk about the other night.”

You’re eyebrow cocks, “What night?”

“Your nightmare.”

Run, your mind chants.

“I… I don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet.”

“I understand, and I will wait until you do, but that’s not the part I wanted to speak about.”

“Okay, what is?”

Astarion takes a deep breath, odd for him, “You touched me, and I jumped away from you.”

Oh…. 

“It’s fine, Astarion,” you smile, “You don’t have to explain this to me.”

“I know. I want to. I haven’t been touched in,” he pauses, “a while. The sensation caught me off guard.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have do-”

Astarion’s fingers come to your lips, “Stop,” he smiles, “Darling, I wanted you to, really wanted you to, but when you did, it brought up those old feelings.”

Fuck.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Fool woman,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “I want you, all of you. Gods, you have no idea how difficult it’s been to keep my hands off of you. Well, for the most part,” he winks.

“But?”

Astarion takes a seat on the bed, and you climb up and sit next to him. He looks ruminative, and you wonder what is going on in his mind.

“I think I would like to try some things. If you’re willing, of course.”

Try some things? 

“What would you like to try?”

“I’d like you to touch my back, my scars specifically.”

He’s figuring out what triggers him and trying to work on it.

You balk a little at the request. His scars have always been somewhere you generally avoided touching.

“That is difficult for you.”

He sighs, “Which is precisely why I need to do it, and I need your help.”

“Always.”

“Thank you. We… we could start now if you’re not busy, of course.”

“Shirt on or off?”

He smiles, “Trying to get my shirt off already?”

“I'll admit, I do enjoy the view, but this isn’t about me. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Astarion removes his shirt, “I wouldn’t want to deny you the view, as you say.”

“Astarion…”

“Relax, my dear. This is the way it must be.”

“You will tell me when to stop, right? Before it gets too much for you?”

Astarion kisses the pads of your fingers softly, “I will tell you.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m as ready as I will ever be, darling.”

Your fingers hesitate, hovering above the scars, and he giggles, “I can feel the warmth from your skin, but not your actual skin, my dear. Don’t be afraid. This is what I want, what I need.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow your fingers to gently caress the raised scars as lightly as you possibly can. You’ve seen these countless times, of course, but you’ve never spent time touching them, not like this.

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and he tremors slightly. You lift your hand promptly away from him. You hate seeing him in discomfort and feel even worse that you are putting him through it, even at his request.

“Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, if you can get past all the other emotions, it feels kind of nice.”

You lower your hand to his back and slowly trace the infernal script with your fingers. The scars are smooth like the rest of his silky skin, but there are jagged edges to some, and you wonder if that’s where Cazador made his revisions. You nearly shudder at the thought.

You lose yourself in those lines, in the softness of his skin and the intimacy and trust of this moment. There’s no way to know how much time passes.

“Stop.”

You drop your hand away from him instantly. Astarion turns, takes your hand in his, and kisses the back.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

Please be okay. Please don’t run.

He smiles genuinely, “I will be.”

“Do you need some time alone? I can leave…”

He chuckles, “Actually, there is one more thing I would like your help with.”

“What?”

“Have a bath with me.”

You sputter, “You want to have a bath?” Your eyes shift from side to side, “Together?”

“I would love nothing more if you’re willing.”

“But what about….” Your face flushes hot and red.

A devious half-smile quirks up his lips, “Finish the sentence, darling.”

“The sensations… you pulled away.”

Astarion giggles at your bumbling with a look of amusement at your sheepishness.

“You were not this shy before, but then again, I suppose we weren’t merely friends then.”

“I am not shy!”

“Oh? Then say what you mean, love.”

Why am I being shy? I was never shy with him.

Taking a deep breath, you bolster yourself and force the words out of your mouth, “When I touched your cock, you leapt away as if I burnt you. A bath… you can’t tell me that won’t happen.”

“Such vulgar language,” he tuts with a darkly mischievous smirk, “I do love it when you say cock, particularly when talking about mine.”

Heat rises to your face, and you flush bright red as he teases you.

Gods, what’s wrong with me?

“Would you like to bathe with me or not? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Fuck this.

“It better be hot!”

He smiles smugly, “I remember the way you like it, my love.”

Does he? 

Astarion fills the large tub. Steam floats off the water, fogging a wall-hanging mirror by the washbasin. You stare at the bath in trepidation. Is this a good idea? Is he pushing himself too far? Should you even be doing this with your friend ? You hear the faint click of the lock on his bedroom door.

I could never simply be his friend.

I need to speak to him. Soon.

Astarion’s hand comes to your lower back, “May I undress you?”

You nod, and his hands slip under your shirt, and he strips it slowly off of you. Your chest heaves with a mixture of anxiety, excitement and arousal. The cold air makes your nipples harden almost instantly into peaks. Feeling suddenly shy under his crimson gaze, you cover yourself.

Hells. He’s right. I am being shy.

Astarion moves your arms gently away, “You’re a vision. I never want you to feel you have to hide from me.”

His fingers trail over several new scars that mark your body, acquired while you were out looking for him, “So many of these are new."

You shift your eyes away from him.

“I won’t pry, but I do hope you will tell me what happened one day.”

“I need to trust you again first.”

“I understand.”

He trails his fingers around the waistband of your pants, “May I?”

You take a deep breath and nod. He hooks his fingers in the band and pulls them down your legs. Crouching, he helps you step out of them.  You’re bared to him now, and his hooded red eyes take you in sensually.

Astarion’s cool hand glides up the counters of your body while he stands. His hands reach for the ties of his trousers, and he undoes them in a flash and slips out of them.

He’s definitely not shy.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him naked since he left, and your eyes devour that beautiful sight.

My memories didn’t do him justice.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Thoroughly.”

He laughs, “Good. Me too.”

Astarion steps into the tub and holds his hand out to you. Taking it, you step into the hot water with him.

He really does remember how hot I like my baths to be.

Astarion sits down, sinking into the hot water and sighs happily, closing his eyes. You sit towards the opposite side of the tub, being extra careful not to let your body touch his too much and keeping your knees hugged to your chest.

Thank Gods Gale has oversized tubs.

Astarion’s eyes open, and his brows furrow, “Why so far away?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Still excessively gentle with me, I see,” he tuts, “Come here, my love. I wish to sit together like we used to.”

Before he left me...

Slowly, you move toward him, turning around and putting your back against his chest. You keep your body rigid, careful not to touch his crotch, but it’s uncomfortable, contorting your body in an awkward position.

Nothing like before he left. I would sink into him.

Astarion trails soft kisses up your neck, his lips ghosting your ear, “I want this.”

Your skin flushes, and heat pools in between your thighs, accompanied by the all-too-familiar pulsing throb.

Ugh, not this again. I need to control myself.

Bit by bit, you allow your body to relax in increments, doing your best to watch for any signs he’s been pushed over a boundary, but he just giggles at you.

“Stop giggling at me, Astarion!”

“Sorry, darling. You’re just too cute.”

You huff and scowl at him before letting your body completely relax.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

His arms come around you, and he hugs you even closer, “May I wash you?”

“You have me naked and pressed up against you in a tub. Why do you keep asking permission?”

Astarion kisses your cheek, “We are friends, no? I do not know the proper etiquette for bathing with friends .”

Friends. Ugh.

You want to rip that word out of his vocabulary so he can never utter it again.

Well, two can play this game.

“You may wash me, friend.”

He chuckles and brings a washcloth up your arm, over your shoulder and down, grazing your nipple. You suck in a sharp breath, arching your back at the delicate sensation. Astarion repeats the same trail on the other side, and you whimper when the washcloth grazes your other nipple.

Your swollen clit aches with each movement of his hands over your body, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the intense pulsing.

Astarion kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. The cool embrace of his lips compared to the searing heat of your skin and the water make a chill run down your spine, and it takes everything you have not to writhe against him on the spot.

You’re desperate to feel closer to him, to be consumed by him. Your heart beats rapidly, your chest heaves and your voice comes out in a breathy, pleading whimper.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“Bite me.”

You feel his sharp fangs sink into your neck, and your core clenches and spasms. Your hands find his thighs and squeeze. He holds you steady, hard against him, and you can feel his growing erection at your back. He moans into your neck, and you swear that sound alone could be your undoing.

He eases his grip on you. Immediately, his finger comes to your chin to bring your gaze to his. He finds your lips with a growl that reverberates in his chest.

He knows I like to taste myself on him.

He parts his lips, and you skillfully explore his mouth, tasting yourself and him mixed, and you moan against him.

Astarion pushes his erection further into you with a breathy hiss. You want to feel it, taste it, be filled by it, but you keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs. You don’t want to take it too far, especially since he said he hasn’t been touched in a while. He needs to feel in control of when and how he is touched.

Astarion’s hand travels languidly down your stomach and your skin prickles at the sensation.

Keep going.

Wait.

Should I stop him?

No.

He splits your folds with his finger, and you buck your hips and groan into his chest. His tongue laps up some of the remaining blood from the fresh bite as his fingers find your swollen clit. You can’t help yourself, and you push harder up against him. His pulsing erection pressed firmly against you.

“Gods below,” he groans in your ear.

Your whole body quivers as he strokes, circles and teases the pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Do friends do this?” He growls.

You can hardly think with him expertly caressing your throbbing flesh, barely put together words between your whimpers, moans and frantic pants.

His fingers slow, and your body cries at the end of his delicious touch, “Astarion. Gods. Please.”

“Then answer me,” he taunts commandingly, “Do friends do this?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to pant out a reply, “N-no.”

“That’s right, darling,” he coos, “They don’t.”

Astarion’s fingers start massaging and stroking the aching bundle of nerves, setting a merciless rhythm. Your legs quake and twitch, tilting your pelvis further into his touch. You feel the familiar tightening start to curl up in your stomach. Your body quivers with his precise movements, and your chest heaves.

So close.

“A-Astarion…”

“Yes, my love,” he growls, “Cum for me.”

You start to spasm and tremor, shockwaves gripping your body as if he gave the command, and your body obeyed. You convulse so strongly and violently that you scream out in sheer ecstasy, and Astarion uses a hand to muffle your incoherent, wanton cries. Water sputters up and splashes on the floor from your frantic movement.

“Darling, if you keep screaming like that, you’re going to make the wizard jealous.”

“Astarion,” you pant.

“Yes?”

“For the love of the Gods, don’t talk about “the wizard” right now.”

He nuzzles your neck and kisses your temple, “Gladly.”

With one last shudder, you sag back into him, and your back presses up against his throbbing cock.

“What about you?”

He smiles devilishly, “I have an idea for that too.”

“You’re full of great ideas today. Care to share?”

“I want your hand to do it, but I want to control it.”

You nod your understanding. He’s not ready to take it further just yet, but you had to start somewhere, and this was as good a place to start as any.

“Dry off and go to the bed.”

You and Astarion dry off and move to the bed. You stare at his cock, precum glistens at the tip, and you fight the urge to take him in your mouth, missing his taste.

“As much as I am happy to let you sit there and gawk for as long as you would like, I would much rather feel your hand around my cock, darling.”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You wrap your hand around him. He pulsates under your grip. His hips jerk at the contact, and he hisses in a sharp inhale and groans. His hand wraps over yours, making you grip him tighter.

“Hells, I’ve missed your hands on me.”

You let him set the pace. It starts slow and controlled. His eyes flutter closed, and his face twists in pleasure handsomely. Thick strands of precum dribble out the swollen tip.

His eyes open and meet yours, gliding over your naked body, relishing in it, and he picks up the pace. His fangs peek out as his lips part in a moan. He squeezes your hand around his cock tighter. He rolls his hips and increases the tempo. You’ve seen him reach his peak countless times, and you know he’s close.

Seeing him like this, you can already feel your arousal rising again. Your skin flushes, your core clenches, and you want to squirm on the bed, but with considerable effort, you manage to keep yourself still.

With a groan, he throws his head back, and his mouth drops open. He whimpers your name through muddled, breathless hisses and pants. He stills, and with one final stroke, thick spurts of cum shoot onto his abdomen and dribble down your hands, gathering on his lower abdomen.

Beads of sweat roll down his temples and his body glistens.

Astarion releases his grip on your hand, and you release him in turn. He pulls you to him and kisses you. This kiss isn’t about lust, arousal or pleasure. This is pure love and intimacy physically manifested, and it reminds you of before he left.

I love you. You want to tell him; you want to scream it but swallow the urge.

Astarion grabs the towel he brought, “Hand, darling.”

You hold out your hand soaked with his release, and he wipes it for you with a smirk before cleaning himself up.

“Quite the eventful bath, friend.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiles, “Yes.”

“Good, friend.”

Astarion chuckles, but it's cut short as his head snaps toward the door, “Get dressed. Gale is summoning us.”

You dress in a hurry and go downstairs with Astarion. Gale is pacing up and down the corridor to the entryway. Brows furrowed, muttering to himself.

“Gale, what’s wrong?”

“Aldous has agreed to see you tomorrow. It says you must go alone.”

Lovely. 

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

AO3: Crossposted

Small Notes: - I'm not a smut writer, so hopefully, the smutty parts get better as I get more practice. I'm working on it. :)

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

This is the counterpart to my post about Peter and glasses.

I could have included some more details or doodles of Kaine's like, various mobility devices as he gets older but: this is supposed to be glasses-focused. and also... my hand doesn't want me to do that.

closeups below:

baby Kaine. Even though I claimed that this drawing is solely about glasses, it's also to show that Kaine's hair gets darker as he matures and it was much redder when he was young. And only mild myopia at 12 lol

I'm not gonna go into the whole timeline here but if you haven't read Dr. Warren's notes on Kaine's development for windowverse (major CW for a lot of stuff, please read the tags) the tl;dr is that Kaine is 12 when he gets taken out and then rapidly aged to adulthood. I did this on purpose rather than going along with the 616 canon. my AU my rules etc.

Anyway here's Kaine 3 years later, when he's 24 and is freed from Warren. Still mildly nearsighted but also starts developing a specific kind of cataract because he's been on various corticosteroid and other medications that fuck with his body (probably better than his body killing him) (maybe) It's a posterior subcapsular cataract btw and it develops basically over the span of a few months, overlooked by the people around him and by himself.

He is actually in the hospital (no longer with Warren) when this happens, partly because of an adrenal crisis from oops suddenly stopping prednisone cold turkey after three years. Everyone's a little preoccupied...

His skin should probably not be so clear here now that I look at this lol but I was more focused on his eyes and hair than his various lesions and acne/skin picking...

Oh, his droopy eyelid is from physical trauma btw. A combo of nerve damage and his orbit/brow bone and surrounding area having healed wrong from a pretty bad break/injury (related to his busted up nose). It's not Bell's palsy and he can still move the left side of his face for the most part but the area around his eye especially is definitely weaker

jumping forward another few years —

by 2015 Kaine can't really see much out his left eye, aside from like... light glare and stuff like that. Bottom left is Kaine in 2014, hair still in the process of darkening as it grows Very Rapidly.

During the windowverse equivalent of The Lost Years and Redemption, from late 2012 to early 2015, Kaine is really underweight (nothing new to him, really...) and very sick and unmedicated, and also dealing with things like the long-term chronic effects of ending steroid medications, withdrawals, etc etc etc... not doing so hot...

He also gains a lot more scars over this time period.

Top right is mid to late 2015, around September probably, don't know why I wrote 2016. Kaine keeps his hair long for a few months in Houston then buzzes his hair in November 2015:

After some shit happens. Post-werewolf mauling, basically. Included a mask on this one since he is on (steroid sparing) immunosuppressants and needs to be more careful... at Donald's urging lol

Kaine also wears sunglasses inside pretty often (along with stuff like ear plugs, which I forgot to draw lol) since, like Peter, he is sensitive to bright lights and is also just in general a little more prone to sensory overload than Peter is. So those are supposed to be Tom Ford Marko FT0144 sunglasses, aka James Bond sunglasses lol (Kaine does not know this, of course)

Anyway, astigmatism in his right eye is getting kind of noticeable (it's more than that but...) He also has acquired some optic nerve damage in his already blind eye because of a combination of factors, so that eye actually is totally blind now

Anyway 2016:

After some stuff happens, Kaine ends up back in New York (with Aracely), things are hectic, finally settle down... very late in 2016 Kaine finally goes to the eye doctor

Unsurprisingly the eye doctor wants Kaine to get cataract removal surgery. Also unsurprisingly, Kaine refuses.

Anyway his indoor frames are based on Gucci's men's cat eye glasses, which technically only come in tortoiseshell but I decided that it's My AU and I make the rules and I can say that Gucci also made these in black, in windowverse. and also kaine's size. lol.

$450 💀

Like Peter, Kaine has tinted lenses. Unlike Peter, they are not Transitions/photochromic. So indoors he has lighter shades with a gradient to almost clear at the bottom, no polarization or anything like that.

For outside—

These are just Kate Spade Genice sunglasses with the lenses replaced w/ black mirrored polarized lenses. Though I don't think I made them flat enough—

My justification for Kaine being able to wear itty bitty designer shades (seriously, why are the arms on kate spade frames so short?) is that he has a couple million dollars and he can do whatever he wants. (Like have the arms replaced.) These specific shades also have pretty large lenses so I figure as long as the arms are lengthened, they should fit.

And also I like them and I want him to wear them.

Anyway jumping ahead like 8 years to when Kaine is in his mid 30s—

More Tom Ford frames. Ingrid, this time, with prescription lenses presumably lol

I'll be honest I did consider giving Kaine a prosthetic eye, but... in this context I think the only reason he'd ever get eye surgery would be if it was a life-threatening emergency, and tbh even with issues like glaucoma and complications from the cataract, it's not clear to me that it would ever be life-threatening unless he managed to get an infection, which I guess is possible, but idk? Eye pain is def not enough motivation for Kaine to have it removed, especially since surgery would increase his risk of infection on account of being immunocompromised on the long-term.

If I were to go that route, windowverse Kaine is the type to have an expensive and glamorous eye made btw, because he is already going to draw attention, he cannot look "normal," regardless of how realistic a professional prosthetic can be, and people are going to stare at him regardless, so I think he would prefer to do something that feels, like... well, like him.

Anywayyyy... I've left it as just an eternal cataract for now but if it turns out that would cause actual dangerous problems I will have them take his eye out...

As far as his working eye goes, in his mid-30s his eyesight is definitely worse, and he's pretty nearsighted, but it's definitely still basically fully correctable with prescription lenses (issues w/ depth perception and lack of binocular vision notwithstanding). But without, he has to look pretty closely at stuff like food labels to be able to read it and even then it can still be blurry.

Those frames are Gucci as well btw

again, lenses replaced with darker, polarized lenses to suit his needs wrt light sensitivity etc.

Kaine's temples are also starting to thin a tiny bit but it's not very noticeable yet.

This is also four years after he and Aracely moved into a luxury motor home and adopted a stray cat, and his meds are not too awful to keep track of (yay for patches), and actually make him feel comparatively better, so he's like... doing alright for himself. Even his eyebrows are healthier (because he isn't compulsively ripping them out from stress)

Jumping forward another 5-7 years:

I made these frames up on account of it's 10 years in the future. Continuing the cat eye trend.

Kaine starts letting his facial hair grow out at some point between 36 and 40, probably just because shaving is kind of a hassle and he has arthritis (etc), and it's not like it will ever grow very long... he also goes fully gray very quickly upon reaching middle age lmao — Peter doesn't start going gray until a few years after Kaine, and even then doesn't really get grayer than a big skunk stripe before he dies. Ben goes gray in his 50s, but may or may not still be bleaching or coloring his hair at that point lol

Kaine's hairline is obviously also receding a bit more obviously now, unlike his brothers... :/ damn them (okay Peter's got a tiny bit of a receding hairline by 48 but only barely)

But Kaine is... dare I say... kind of happy? He's in a good place in his 30s and 40s, emotionally and relationship-wise, with his whole platonic soulmate thing with Aracely, and the random stray cat she adopted, and their expensive motor home and so on. His vision may be getting worse and he is retired because of his many disabilities but he's like... pretty okay.

Anyway Kaine is very undeniably going blind by the time he's 40 and he's started to learn braille around age 41 as he accepts that.

...probably his lenses should be thicker but I can barely draw glasses as it is..........

In addition to whatever specs he's wearing, he finally gets a tactile cellphone for emergencies around this time, basically only for speed-dialing Aracely, Ben or Peter, or 911.

I figure he prefers tactile stuff like braille or buttons because it's all touch-based and he doesn't like dealing with TTS or dictation (for multiple reasons) and doesn't like screen readers (mostly for sensory reasons), but he does occasionally use those things because sometimes tactile feels worse than listening to a robot, and obviously screen readers can be more useful for specific situations.

ANYWAY Kaine probably has like a BlindShell 2 or MiniVision (non smart) or whatever the hell.

It's worth saying: Kaine can still see out of his right eye, but he can't clarify images well, mostly just moving shapes and blurry silhouettes and colors and light. He can still read really massive text if it's close enough to his face (with glasses) or like, really huge signs, but not with crispness or clarity, and probably still causes some strain. Anything else is illegible.

Still sensitive to light and being dazzled though, probably actually worse now, so still wearing tinted lenses both outdoors and indoors.

Does orientation & mobility around age 43, once someone finally thinks to refer him to a low vision specialist... He does get a cane but not the typical long cane people associate with blindness. He mostly navigates okay on his own since he can still see a little, and the cane is mostly for his chronic pain and other health problems... but he's definitely a lot slower than he used to be, as well as easily startled, and prefers to have Aracely with him if he's out and about.

But all things considered, he's not doing too terribly for a guy who wasn't expected to survive past 30.

So, Anyway, mid 40s:

(aka the cutest part of this drawing)

Another frame I made up. Just nude acetate and bronze wireframe...

And a puppy lol (American Doberman)

When Kaine is around 45, since he does have some problems navigating, especially if he's alone, and Aracely can't be around him all the time, Aracely convinces Kaine to get a service dog

Warren's Jackal mask in windowverse was a black leather Anubis mask, not a green bat thing, so the blurry silhouettes of black Dobies make Kaine... stressed, which is why a brown Dobie with uncropped ears (and a Dobie because they drool less)

It takes a while to train her of course, and lots of money too... but they do

So once Brownie is a year old, Kaine has his very own seeing eye dog 🐶

There are like... more details but I want to actually draw Brownie and Kaine's gear for her, so I'll just leave that for some other time. also this post is way too long as it is lmao

Peter probably does bitch a little bit about the breed choice but he can deal with it.

that's it for now.

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

Interlude: What a Day...

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 74K total

Status: Ongoing

(Chapter 11, Aug 28th)

Song for this Chapter: Elastic Heart -Sia

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Jump!

Interlude: What a Day…

The First Day...

The morning sun cast long, eerie shadows across the cobblestones outside Gale’s imposing wizard tower in Waterdeep, filling the crisp air with the scent of damp earth and lingering magic. Astarion paced nearby, his steps deliberate and measured. Look at me, reduced to pacing like a mortal. How charming, he thought, his mind racing. He needed to approach Sima with a clear head, to articulate his desires without the anger that had clouded their previous encounter. His crimson eyes flickered with determination as he took a deep breath, smoothing his clothes before stepping forward and calling out, voice steady yet tinged with urgency.

“Sima!”

His call echoed through the morning air, breaking the silence and drawing the attention of any passers-by. As he waited, Astarion took one more deep breath, gathering his thoughts and preparing himself for the difficult conversation to come. What a wretched irony, to cling to shadows while craving the light. Perhaps I’m nothing more than the monster I feared becoming. Despite his cool exterior, his heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. He would do anything to convince her to join him, even if it meant revealing a softer side he usually kept hidden.

Sima emerged onto the balcony from the night before, leaning over the railing. She wore a powder-blue dress, and her long black ringlets swung in the soft breeze of morning. "Well, look at what the tressym dragged in. I half-expected you to show up with your ghouls in tow. Nice to see reason prevails. What’s it to be? Demands? Threats? Promises?" she said, her tone weary as she stood high above him.

"Ah, my love," Astarion greeted her with a wry smile, tilting his head back to look up at her. "Still playing the part of the aloof lady in high places, I see. But no, no threats or demands this time. I’m here for a less... confrontational discussion." He took a moment to compose himself, his gaze never leaving hers, before continuing with a measure of earnestness he would usually hide. "I wish to talk, not as adversaries, but as... partners. You and me."

"Right, partners. Hmmm, I have to say you sound convincing. Vaguely. Wolf in sheep's clothing, no less. Fine, fly on up, but remember Gale has wards in place to keep me safe and sound right here," Sima said with a smirk, appreciating the countermeasures she had devised with her friend. The wind kicked up her powder-blue dress, revealing her legs and deep brown skin.

"Oh, I'm a wolf alright. You can trust me. At least, a little."

Astarion flew up in his bat form before transforming back. His eyes roamed over her, taking in the view and the way her legs were revealed by the wind. Ah, to taste the sweetness of her skin again. He had missed her so much, he had ached and burned for her presence, and now she was here, so close. He longed to touch, to kiss, to taste, but that would come in time... if he played his cards right.

"I think I prefer the bat, honestly. Oddly enough, you're less biting in that form. Get on with it, will you?" Sima leaned back against the railing of the balcony, eyeing him with suspicion and watching him as he walked around her. She crossed her bare legs under her dress, the wind of the high balcony blowing her black ringlet curls.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that? All you'd be doing is sitting here, watching me fly around. No, I much prefer this form, all the interesting things I can do. Wouldn't you agree, dear?" Astarion walked around her, circling, studying, eyeing every part of her with an intensity and desire. He stopped in front of her, his eyes still drawn to her legs, though his gaze slowly traveled up her body, along her neck, and landed on her face. Is this Cazador’s legacy? A wretched creature, clinging to power like a lifeline, even as it poisons everything it touches? He dismissed the thought. No, I’ve surpassed that miserable wretch. But still, here I am, clinging to power... It’s almost amusing how little has changed.

Sima scowled. "Considering all your utter bullshit last night and how you've treated me prior to my last month in hiding, you have some gall to look at me like that. You haven't earned the right to look at me like that," Sima said, quickly walking away, frustrated by his flippant attitude and thinking he could simply charm his way out of his horrid behavior. He had nearly killed her chasing her down in Baldur's Gate and nearly taking her by force in the Enclave weeks ago.

Astarion followed her around the balcony, matching her as she walked. Losing her... The final death? How poetic. The last vestige of the man I was, slipping through the fingers of a god. How utterly laughable. He maintained his composure, his voice softening as he spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Have I not earned the right to admire the woman who holds all my heart in her hands? Shall I gouge out my eyes so you are spared my gaze? Or would you rather I stop pursuing you? Stop trying. Stop loving you?" He stopped in front of her, blocking her path. He reached out, gently tracing her cheek with his fingers. His voice softened as he spoke.

Sima looked at him, square in the eyes. "Tell me, did you come here to trade barbs with me, or is there an actual use to you being here this morning? Otherwise, I would be happy to shove you off the balcony and see if you bounce when you hit the bottom of the cobblestones," Sima said before walking around him back to the door of her quarters connected to the balcony.

Astarion followed her again, though faster this time, and grabbed her wrist before she could get through the door. "No, no more of this. I'm not here to trade barbs with you." His voice was harsh, his grip on her wrist tight. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out with his free hand, gently cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I'm here because I have to talk to you. Because I'm not going anywhere until you listen to me."

Sima pulled away and raised her hand. "You want to talk, then talk. No touching. Got it? Say what you need to say," Sima said, crossing her arms and looking at him with pure frustration etched on her features.

Astarion grimaced. He didn't like being denied the ability to touch her, to touch his dear. What remains of me without you, darling? A god, perhaps, but a hollow one—clinging to the power that now feels like ash in my mouth. But he took a step back anyway. He knew if he pushed it further, he would get nowhere at all. "Fine. I'll keep my hands to myself. At least for now."

Astarion let out a frustrated sigh. He was struggling to control his emotions, to keep from shouting, screaming at her to listen to him. Madness... or simply the next step in this ascension? Descending into darkness—I should have expected as much. How delightfully tragic. He took a breath, composing himself. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Oh, there's quite a bit. Say, the hunt with your wolves. The bats. Oh, let's not forget the insane way you behaved back in Baldur's Gate at the Enclave, wanting to claim me. What, all of that is gone now, a month onwards?" Sima said, her face a visage of disdain. He had tried to force her to be with him, and she wasn't backing down.

Astarion's face soured as he heard her words, not the sweet sound of her voice. No, it was what she said that set him off. He clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he met her gaze. "No, it's not gone! Gods curse it, can you not understand? I want you, I want you to be mine!" he snapped back, his voice cold and sharp. "Is that really so much to ask? To want to protect you, to have you by my side always? To take care of you?"

"Oh, is that your offer? Protection? Partnership? Remember you said it yourself, we are partners right up against when it comes down to your authority over me. That's not a partnership, that's a farce!" Sima said, turning away from him and then coming back with her finger pointed. "And let's not forget your little game of kidnapping me after the ball and trying to keep me hostage. Your safety is a cage, Astarion."

Astarion's temper flared, his eyes narrowing in anger. The mention of the kidnapping and the threats sent a wave of frustration through him. You really are intent on making this difficult, aren't you? He took a deep breath, trying to maintain what little composure he had left. "And what would you prefer?" he snapped back, his voice low and menacing. "To be out on your own with no one watching your back? No one to protect you when you sleep at night? No one to care what happens to you?"

He moved closer to her, glaring down at her with an intensity that belied his facade of civility.It’s laughable, really—this tug-of-war between what I was and what I’ve become. Do you even see it, Sima? He clenched his hands into fists, the frustration and anger bubbling up inside of him. He'd tried to have a civil conversation with her, tried to explain himself, but it seemed like she just didn't understand.

"Oh, you think you can handle yourself, do you? You think you're strong enough to fend off every threat, to face the dangers of the world alone?" he retorted, his voice filled with mockery. Foolish, to think she can stand alone in this world. And yet... there’s something terrifying in her defiance—something I cannot control.

He took another step closer to her, towering over her, his eyes flashing. "I think you need to look into the mirror and realize the darker reasons you offer these things to me. Look at what you want. Look at how far you are willing to go to get it. You've already chased me across the Sword Coast. How far are you truly willing to go to make me stay?" Sima said, drawing a line between his supposed protection and dominance.

"You think I'm afraid to go further? I've come this far already, my love. Don't think I won't take whatever steps necessary to get what I want," Astarion said, his voice low and dangerous. He took yet another step towards her, closing the distance between them to mere inches. Would she even recognize me if I revealed how deeply this cuts? No. That’s a weakness I cannot afford. "I will do whatever it takes, Sima. If you think I'm going to let you slip through my fingers, you're sorely mistaken."

"If that's true, then do the thing that you are afraid to do. Respect what I want. My choices, the time to make them, and the desire that you need to recognize that I stand toe to toe with you. No half measures, no lies, no omissions or exceptions. You throw the offer of true vampirism at me, and just expect me to say yes. Well, damn you, and your fucking pride, I will not just give in," Sima said, softly pushing him back to give her some space on the balcony where they stood.

Astarion's face twisted into a snarl as she pushed him back, and he fought the urge to grab her and pull her close again. Her refusal rankled him, and his blood boiled with a mixture of frustration and desire. Of course, she resists. They always resist. But this time... this time, I won’t let go. "You really are intent on making this difficult, aren't you?" he said, his voice still low and his words dripping with sarcasm. "I am offering you everything, and you still refuse?! Do you not understand what that kind of power means? The things we could do together?"

"The power you would have. What's to say you will turn me into a true vampire? What's to say you won't just turn me into a spawn and have at it? What's to say that we don't have two thrones but one where you sit and me on a leash? All you've painted for me is this perfect picture, but what does sharing power with another vampire even look like to you? Especially in your domain," Sima said, challenging him, trying to pull out the kernels of truth in this fantasy he had woven.

Astarion's hands clenched into tight fists, but he refrained from grabbing her. A leash? Darling, that’s hardly romantic, is it? He tried to maintain his composure, trying to keep the sharp edge out of his voice. "We'd be equal partners, sweetheart. Or is that not what you want? I thought you were the type to crave adventure and power. Well, here it is, right in front of you. We could have that, together. Isn't that what you want?"

Sima looked into his crimson eyes. "Gods, it's like being back at camp all over again. The allure, the lure of power. Trying to get me to agree. Except now it's not a bite or blood, it's the very nature of who I am. I know you, I see you. You hunted me down, forcing me to stay. And now you dangle this instead of offering me a glimpse of who you once were. You refuse to let me in and don't blame the ascension. It's you choosing to cut yourself off. To be this... thing."

Astarion's nostrils flared as she spoke, her words cutting into him with a harshness that he couldn't deny. He wanted to protest, to defend himself, but the truth was that she was right. And what would you have me do? Lay my heart at your feet to be trampled on? I’m a vampire, my love. It’s in my nature to be possessive, dominant, and yes—to demand obedience. That’s who I am, dear. You of all people should know that.

"That's such a load of horseshit. You think I've been lying around doing nothing for a month in Waterdeep? I've read everything I can on your kind, everything. And let me tell you, you have a chance here to be something different. So if you want anything from me, you want this compromise you so delicately put together? Then you need to change. Don't bother coming to speak with me until you do. I am done with the threats, I am done with you not seeing me," Sima said, pressing a finger to his sternum before turning and going back to her balcony room, slamming the door behind her.

Astarion let out a frustrated growl as the door slammed, and he clenched his fists in anger. Her stubborn insistence on resisting me is more infuriating than my own internal battle against these cursed instincts. For a few minutes, he stood at the door, seething. His mind warred between the urge to force his way in, to use his strength to take what he wanted, and the knowledge that such an action would only drive her further away. But would that be so bad? To claim her by force, to finally end this tiresome game of wills?

With a curse, he turned away and stalked toward the balcony, transforming into his bat form and flying back down, endeavoring to continue their battle of wills in the coming days.

The Second Day...

The night had settled deep over Waterdeep when Astarion knocked on Gale's door, his composure masking the anticipation simmering beneath. The door opened to reveal Gale, who greeted him with a nod. Astarion’s gaze immediately found Sima across the room, her posture tense and her eyes sharp. She was a vision in her short leather skirt and black crop top, reminiscent of their earlier days—a reminder of the power she held over him.

“Gale, can you give us a moment, please?” Sima’s voice was tight, barely concealing the storm of emotions brewing inside her. He’s here again. Why can’t he just leave me alone? She tried to keep her composure, but the sight of him stirred a complicated mix of emotions—anger, longing, and something darker.

Gale hesitated, his eyes flicking between them, before he nodded. “Of course, take as long as you need,” he said, exiting with Tara following close behind.

Astarion didn’t move immediately, savoring the sight of Sima. His gaze was predatory, tracing the curve of her legs, the rise and fall of her chest, and the way her hair framed her face. He smirked, a calculated move to disarm her. “Well, hello there, darling,” he purred, his voice low and laden with promise.

That voice... gods, why does he have to sound like that? Sima’s pulse quickened despite herself. She hated that he still had this effect on her, hated how easily he could make her feel weak. But she refused to let him see it.

“This time using the front door. How much did you hate that instead of sneaking around like a thief in the night?” Sima’s words were sharp, but Astarion caught the flicker of something else in her eyes—something he could work with.

“Oh, you know me, darling. I do enjoy a surprise now and then.” He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if stalking prey. “But today, I thought a more... civilized approach was in order.”

Civilized... Sima almost laughed. He was anything but. Yet, as he closed the distance between them, the air between them crackled with tension, thick and palpable. Astarion’s gaze lingered on her lips, then trailed down to the curve of her neck, exposed and tempting. “And yes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear, “I’ve come to make my case, again.”

This is a game to him, Sima reminded herself, though the proximity of his lips to her ear sent a shiver down her spine. He’s always been so damn good at this... She stiffened, trying to regain control. “Well, the condemned man comes to visit. Only fitting I listen,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. “What’s it to be today? Threats? Pleas for partnership?”

Astarion chuckled, the sound dark and seductive. “Oh, my love, you think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” He moved closer, his body almost brushing against hers. The heat of him, the scent of him—leather, spice, and something uniquely Astarion—was intoxicating. “But I’m full of surprises.”

Surprises, she thought, her heart racing despite herself. That’s one way to put it. His fingers brushed her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her. The connection was instant, a sharp reminder of how easily he could affect her, and wholly unwelcome. She hated that he still had this power over her.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm, trailing up to her shoulder, where he let them linger, his touch both a caress and a claim. “No threats,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “No kidnappings. Just a civilized talk. But I must say, dear,” he continued, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur, “you look absolutely divine in that skirt.”

Sima’s breath hitched, the words stirring something deep within her. Damn it... She could feel the chill of his nose against the warmth of her neck, the contrast sending shivers down her spine. This is exactly what he wants. Don’t let him win... She steeled herself, trying to ignore the pull he had on her, the way her body responded to his every move. “If you think I don’t know what you’re doing, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” she said, her voice wavering as she tried to maintain her defiance. “There was a time when it was sincere, you know. Not a game or a ploy.”

Astarion sighed against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “You assume I’m not sincere every time I touch you,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “But I always have a reason for what I do. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean it’s not heartfelt. I want to be close to you, always.”

Always... The word echoed in her mind, twisting something deep inside her. But what does that mean when it comes from someone like him? He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his embrace, feeling the softness beneath his exterior. The possessive creature he had become wasn’t dangerous in this moment. But she knew better than to trust this calm.

His hands traced the curves of her hips, thighs, and waist, each touch more intimate, more possessive than the last. “You cannot truly fear me,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. “You know I would sooner die than allow harm to come to you.”

Sima let him hold her, her body betraying her resolve as it melted into his embrace. Why does it feel so safe, so... right? she wondered, her heart conflicted. For a moment, she allowed herself to drown in the sensation—the safety and danger, the pleasure and pain. But as his lips trailed along her cheek, her mind screamed for her to stop, to remember the pain he had caused her before. She pushed back, the movement breaking the spell he had cast over her. “No,” she whispered, almost to herself. “No, I deserve more than just this.”

Astarion’s heart ached as she pulled away, leaving him with a hollow emptiness. He stared at her, his breath ragged, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and disappointment. “More than just this?” he repeated, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief. “What more do you want from me, dear? I’m giving you everything I have.”

Everything... The word sounded hollow in her mind. But is it really? Sima’s eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “Trust, respect, to give me more than your body and to give me the part of you that is still there. That softness,” she said, her voice filled with anger and hurt. “I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing that you want to have control over me or not trusting me with all of you. You were always so much more to me than just your body, you know that.”

Astarion’s expression darkened as her words stung him to the core. He knew she was right, that there was more to himself that he was holding back. “You want that softness, do you?” he said through clenched teeth, “I tried to give it to you, dear, and look where it got me. The world doesn’t care if you’re kind, it doesn’t care if you’re vulnerable. It will tear you apart the moment you let your guard down.”

“How can you not trust me? I am not the rest of the world, I have bled with you, fought with you. How can you still not know better after all this time?” Sima looked at him incredulously, deeply pained and furious.

Astarion ran a hand through his hair, his frustration at himself and her frustration at him mixing into a toxic brew of emotion. “It’s not a question of trust, dear. It’s a question of survival. When you’ve been hurt as many times as I have, it’s hard to believe that any kind hand out there is genuine, that anyone isn’t just waiting to stab you in the back. It’s easier to take what you want before it can be taken from you.”

Survival? Sima thought, her anger flaring again. And what am I, in that calculation? “Well, you cannot take my love. I am not a thing to be conquered, I am not a thing to be won. I need us to be different. If I can’t find shelter with you, who can I find shelter with? If I can’t trust you, who in this godsforsaken world can I trust? Don’t you see? It’s not fair to me, to offer up pleasure and hold back the very thing that I need,” Sima said, opening up her hands as if she was willing to accept him if he could do this.

The sheer raw emotion of Sima’s outburst hit Astarion like a punch to the gut. He felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him—anger, guilt, helplessness.

“Dammit, Sima!” he exclaimed, his voice almost choked with frustration. “Of course, it’s not fair! Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t want it too? But every time we’ve tried this before, it’s gone wrong. Every time, I’ve ended up getting hurt!”

And what about me? Sima’s heart pounded with both anger and sorrow. You’re not the only one who’s suffered. “No! No. Don’t you dare bring up me leaving you! You know that was because of your need for control. You know it’s because you tried to force me into being your spawn. You know it was more about your need to keep everything as it was, than to let me in! You grasp at control and you push me away!” Sima yelled back, her voice echoing in Gale’s drawing room.

Astarion’s expression hardened, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you! You’re no saint in this, darling! You always act so high and mighty, but you’re not perfect. You’re not some shining beacon of good that can fix all my flaws. Maybe I do grasp for control, maybe I need control, just like you need to be all sweet and gentle and kind! Maybe that’s just who we are!”

Sweet and gentle? Sima’s anger flared. Is that all he sees? “Don’t you dare be sarcastic. You know I am being honest, and all you do, yet again, is run away. Maybe I left, but you ran first. You run from me, you run from yourself, and you run from what you are becoming!” Sima’s voice rose, filled with hurt and anger.

Astarion’s frustration boiled over, his control slipping even further. “And what exactly is it, dear, that I’m becoming, huh? A tyrant? A monster?” Astarion’s voice dripped with venom, the words laced with both anger and something deeper, a fear he refused to name. “Go on, say it! Say what we both know you’re thinking!”

Sima’s breath caught in her throat. “You’re becoming him. I am afraid, and you are becoming him.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He recoiled, but then something dark within him, something Ascendant, twisted the pain into anger, defiance. “And I suppose I should just let that get the better of me, is that it? Change who I am just to make you happy? I’m stronger than that, dear. I won’t shrink back just because you’re afraid I’m becoming him. I made a choice, I decided who I would be, and I will see it through. Your hands are just as bloody as mine, darling!”

Sima looked at him in dismay. “Then why even be here? Why keep trying if you think it’s pointless? Do you actually expect me to look past this? I may have helped you ascend, and yes, those bodies are on me, but I have suffered for a year since we parted. You know what happened to me in Calimport, you know the pain I feel every day! Don’t say I haven’t paid because I have. I lost you, and I lost myself the day you ascended.”

“You left me,” he shot back, stung at the implication that he hadn't suffered too in their separation, in some ways more than she had. He closed the gap between them, grabbing her shoulders, his fingers digging in just tightly enough to keep her from backing away. “You left me alone in that damned, empty, cold palace. I needed you.”

Sima pulled away. “And I need you to see me, to recognize me, to not push me away or push me behind you. Do you remember what you were like during those months when I was with you? Do you remember beginning to put me under your thumb? Of course not, because that doesn't matter, does it?! Love isn’t enough to get past this, and neither is sex. I need something more, and I have told you time and time again what that is, but you refuse me,” Sima said resoundingly before walking around him and leaving him in Gale’s drawing room as she left, going back up the stairs of the tower.

Astarion watched her leave, seething internally at the memory she brought up. He could remember, to an extent—flashes of memory more than anything. Not enough to know exactly what he’d said, but enough to know it had been unkind, dismissive, controlling. Enough to hate himself for it. He followed after her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done with you yet!”

Gale calmly walked in front of him before the stairs. “Oh yes, you are, my friend. Sima is the one who is the injured party in these talks, lest you forget. So I’m afraid if the lady says no... at least in my tower, it means that’s the end of that. Now, I am happy to entertain you with a bottle of something stiff, considering you might need it.”

Astarion scowled at Gale, bristling at being denied, being told he wasn’t needed or wanted, being denied what was his. But he also wasn’t in the mood to fight with Gale over this. “Fine. But whatever you give me, make it stronger than a child’s drink, would you?”

Gale humbly smirked and turned to fetch two bottles, leaving Astarion alone with Tara. The tressym eyed him with open boredom and disdain before speaking. “Honestly,” she said under her breath, her whiskers fluttering.

Astarion eyed the creature warily, taking in Tara’s unamused look. He sat down on the floor, looking up at her with a guarded expression. He could feel that she was no fan of him. “Yes, yes, I know, I’m detestable, I’ve heard it before.”

Tara looked at him and, like a regal creature, quickly stretched as if his personal issues were somewhat beneath her. “No, well, yes, Mr. Ancunin, but honestly, you’d think a vampire would have more charm. Yelling at the lady will do you no favors,” the weary tressym said, licking her fur and ruffling her wings.

Astarion bristled defensively. “And you’d think some mangy animal would know better than to interfere in people’s affairs,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “You have no idea what our relationship is like, so you should keep your mouth shut.”

Tara went on her hind legs and hissed at Astarion, her fur raised just in time for him to hiss back at her, like two territorial cats in one space.

“Don’t you dare hiss at me, you miserable wretch,” Astarion hissed, baring his fangs at her. At this moment, even Tara’s interference was the last thing he was in the mood to take.

Gale walked in talking, not even aware of the territorial hissing happening as he came in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “So let me tell you about this whiskey, my mother—what in the bleeding hells is going on here?” Gale looked from Tara, who had her hackles raised, to Astarion, who looked like some pacing feline.

“Your bloody cat is the problem,” Astarion protested, his voice rising in volume as his frustration over the issue spilled over onto the wizard. He was in no mood to discuss the finer points of this. “She’s here, again, meddling in my business. I don’t remember requesting any furry creatures to witness every moment of my day, and yet there she is, judging me every sodding minute.”

“Perhaps you deserve it, especially with how you treat your supposed lady. Mr. Dekarios, I think I shall check on our lovely Sima and leave you with the ...stray,” Tara hissed before flapping her wings and flying up the tower. Gale shot Astarion a hot gaze and shoved the bottle and glass into his hands. “Pour yourself a glass and get out of my tower. Looks like I have more trouble of yours to clean up,” Gale said, shaking his head as he left.

Astarion looked at the whiskey in his hand and took a long swig directly from the bottle before walking off to leave the tower, taking the bottle with him. As he walked, he muttered under his breath, “It’s all bloody well my own gods-damned business in the first place. Nosy feline. Interfering wizard.”

Astarion walked down the streets of the city, drinking his whiskey. The night around him was cold, the wind blowing through his hair. As he walked, he passed a few shady figures and some people clearly just looking for a good time. He had no doubt he could find some way to kill the evening, but none would bring him what he actually wanted, and that thought only made him more bitter. He took another long swig, letting the whiskey burn down his throat, filling his head with a buzzing haze.

What he could not forget were Sima’s parting words. Her desire for openness. Trust, to let her in. It gnawed at him, the very edges of what he thought he should be. Would be, as he was now, as a vampire lord. The burn of the whiskey did little to help the bitterness the conversation had left on his tongue.

He thought back to their conversation. A hundred times, a thousand times, her words echoed through his mind: “I do not want lies, I do not want distance. You do not trust me.” And she was right. He didn’t. He could not trust someone who had seen the darkest parts of him and still wanted to stay around. Who would willingly bind themselves to such a creature as me? But he would not be alone, not like that. That was not an existence he would accept, no matter what it cost. She will accept me, as I am, one way or another, he thought with a grim determination. He just had to convince her.

The Third Day...

Astarion paced in front of Gale's tower, the usual poise replaced by an uncharacteristic restlessness. The pale moon cast long shadows across the cobblestones, adding an eerie quality to the scene. He was done with waiting, with the delicate dance of words that masked his true desires. He called out, his voice sharper than usual, slicing through the dead of night.

"I have to talk to you! Now!"

The urgency in his tone betrayed his irritation. The words echoed in the quiet air, reflecting the tumult within him as he waited for her to appear.

Sima emerged onto the balcony in her nightrobe, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Are you drunk or just too sated on blood? Do you have any idea what hour it is?"

Astarion looked up, annoyance flickering across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, the charming facade slipping to reveal his frustration. "I don't give a damn what time it is. We need to talk, and we're doing it now."

Sima sighed, her eyes narrowing as she looked around. "Just so you know, the ward keeping me here extends beyond my balcony. I'll come down, just keep it down for gods' sake." With a muttered incantation, she cast Fly on herself and descended, her nightrobe billowing around her as she landed lightly on the cobblestones. "You'd better have a good explanation for this," she hissed.

Astarion's eyes followed her descent, his expression darkening. "No time for pleasantries, love," he said coldly. "This can't wait." He stepped towards her, his movements swift and purposeful. "We're done with the stalling, with the talking. I've made my position perfectly clear, but you've been avoiding the inevitable."

Sima's eyes flashed with anger. "What the hells does that mean? Your position is business as usual. Excuse me if an eternity under your thumb doesn't suit me!" Her voice was a hiss, her stance defiant.

He doesn’t understand—control is not love. I won’t be caged. Sima’s internal resolve was firm, but she couldn't help the slight tremor in her voice as she faced him.

"Under my thumb, is it?" Astarion retorted, irritation clear in his voice. "Funny, you never complained before. You seemed so willing, so eager to give yourself to me. What changed?" He stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You used to be mine, dear. You used to be mine, and I was yours. We were partners, remember? Equals."

Sima's eyes blazed with fury. "Oh, we stopped being equals some time ago, beloved," she spat, the endearment dripping with sarcasm. "I remember us living together, and those months of you turning things around. Difference, singular authority. The one in control, always! You don't share power, Astarion. You hoard it, even in our relationship. I can never have a fair share!" Her fists clenched, her body trembling with emotion.

What has become of me? A ruler or a tyrant? She sees only the monster... Astarion briefly wondered, the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it aside, steeling himself.

"I turned things around? I raised your station, gave you a life of luxury and privilege you could never have hoped to achieve on your own! What more do you want, darling?" He took another step towards her, his voice sharper. "And this nonsense about equality? It's rubbish. You're free to do as you please, as long as it pleases me as well."

"So insidiously hidden, the small print," Sima shot back. "What is equality if not the ability to withstand a difference in opinion? Did you ever really value my opinion, or did you just want a tumble and never felt anything for me at all? If you can't see me as an equal, a true one with value, then you can take your offer of true vampirism and stick it. I will not suffer another day being made to feel less by you!" Her voice trembled with a volatile mix of pain and anger.

Astarion's eyes darkened, his features hardening. "Is that what you thought? That all I wanted was a plaything, a doll to entertain me?" he spat. "You think I never cared? Never felt anything for you?" His breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of her accusations hanging heavy in the air. "You know that's not true. You know it, dammit!"

"Says the man who once put me in a chokehold and kissed me in front of our friends. Or have you forgotten what you were like right after the Ascension? Convenient, isn't it?" Sima's voice cracked with the pain behind her words. She turned away, her black ringlets swaying with her movement.

Astarion's lips curled back, baring his fangs. "Oh, I haven't forgotten, love. I haven't forgotten a single moment, a single touch. You think I would forget how perfect you looked when you were beneath me, submitting to me?" His voice dripped with venom, the memory still fresh and painful. "You think I'd forget the way you looked at me, the defiance in your eyes?"

Sima turned and slapped him hard across the face, her hands trembling as she brought them to her lips in horror. She couldn't bear hearing him speak that way about something that had hurt her so deeply.

Astarion took the slap, his head snapping to the side with the force of it. But he did not wince, did not shrink back. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned his head back to face her. "There she is," he said quietly, satisfaction lacing his words. "There's the fire I know so well."

How can love be both a prison and a promise? Sima’s inner voice was laced with fear and defiance, her heart torn between conflicting emotions.

Sima's eyes blazed with a mix of fury and pain. "I am... sorry. But you do not get to tote out one of my most painful moments and use it for a jest. You do not speak that way to me, ever. Do you understand me? Or I will burn whatever feelings I have for you. So help me by the gods, I will." Her voice trembled, her lip quivering.

Astarion's smile faded, his expression growing serious. "You wouldn't," he whispered, stepping closer. "You're bluffing. That fire within you, you can't deny it. You can't deny us, no matter how hard you fight it." He gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't lie to me. Don't you dare lie to me, my love."

"If you continue to treat me like this, I will do more than burn my feelings down for you. I will dance on the ashes," she spat, pushing his hand away. "You do not speak to me as if I am one of your whores. You understand me?" Her voice shook with anger and pain.

His hand dropped to his side, the smirk vanishing. "You think that's how I look at you? As if you were cheap flesh, some mere passing pleasure?" he sneered. "Don't insult me, darling. I may be many things, but I have never seen you as less than what you are." He took a step forward, his body rigid with tension. "You're mine. You will always be mine."

"Then never speak to me like that again. I will not stand for it," Sima said, crossing her arms, her brown eyes full of fury.

"And I will not stand for defiance." Astarion moved closer, his voice a low growl. "What, you expect me to simply ignore the way you behave? To ignore your insolence, your stubbornness, your willful disregard of my feelings?" His body was taut with anger, the lines of his face hardened.

"And do you think I will ignore your disrespect for who I am, my choices, and just give in to your selfish needs always? To ignore my very nature?" Sima shouted back, the tower behind her illuminated in moonlight. The light dappled on them both, highlighting the stark contrast between their desires.

Astarion's eyes narrowed, the veins in his neck standing out as his frustration grew. "Your selfishness, that's what this is about. Your refusal to yield, to submit to me." He lunged forward, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her closer, his grip tight enough to be painful. "You think I enjoy this, that I want to demand your obedience? I would do anything to make you happy if you would just give in."

Why does she resist? Can she not see that this is the only way? Astarion’s thoughts were laced with frustration and desperation as he tried to understand her resistance.

Sima took a deep breath and calmly pushed him away. She looked into his eyes, the brown irises dark and defiant. "No, I will not. I will not accept anything less than being your equal, your true equal. I will not come home with you," she said, softly prying his hands off her shoulders, her stance firm and sure.

He leaned down, his face just inches from hers. "Is it really so difficult to understand? If you would just do as I say, all of this pain, all of this difficulty, it would go away. It doesn't have to be like this, not between us." His hands slid up her arms and over her shoulders, coming to rest gently on either side of her neck, his thumbs lightly tracing her jawline. "Just give in to me, love, and I will make you happy. I promise you. Trust me."

But can I trust him? Can I trust myself? Sima’s thoughts swirled in turmoil as she looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words and the pull of his touch.

Sima looked into his crimson eyes and saw two sides of him fighting within—the man she loved and the Ascendant who wanted nothing more than to rule. She couldn't tell which side was winning. She softly removed his hands from her and closed her eyes. "I need time, time away from you to make this choice. I can't come with you to Baldur's Gate, not like this. Not with you like this," she said gently, holding his hands before letting go of them and stepping backward towards the tower.

Astarion's hands lingered on her neck for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes dark and calculating in the night. "Time. You want time away from me? You want to think about this, to consider your options?"

He took a step back, his jaw clenching in frustration. "Very well. Have it your way, my love. Take your time. But remember this: no matter how far you run, no matter how long you wait, you will always belong to me."

Sima narrowed her eyes at him. "And perhaps you should take this time too. To see if you are willing to give the things I need, rather than just the things you wish to give me." She spoke softly before turning to head back inside Gale's Wizard Tower, the night air filling the space where she once stood as she closed the grand doors behind her, leaving Astarion on the cobblestones.

Astarion stood, watching the closed door for a long moment, his mind racing. Her words stung, though he made no effort to show it, his expression blank and cold. Damn her… I can’t lose her, but I can’t change either. His thoughts warred within him, the Ascendant in him pushing for control, the man in him yearning for something more.

He stood in place, alone in the night, until he finally turned and walked away, the echo of her words ringing in his mind like a warning bell, a challenge he refused to let slide. With a final, lingering look at the tower, Astarion turned away, his mind already plotting the next move. He would return, and next time, he would not leave without her.

[atlantahammy]

Something I've been working on and off on because I wanted to draw something soft, and this is a result of that.

Wasn't till I was almost done that I realized some coooould mistake it as suggestive but, eh, I can't control people's minds, just know their adults here. Also another little writing bit here under the cut! ———————————– My Commissions | .Carrd

Astra ran her hands gently over every crevice and nook, her fingers and claws gently feeling out every groove as gently as she could, knowing how sensitive turtle shells were and how sensitive his likely was now, with each scar that had been dug into it like trenches.

She could feel him trembling irrationally under her touch, likely a trauma response to what he'd endured that he'd yet to get under control from the inciting incidents.

Two sets of scars, one set a few months older than the other, the elder set having already turned green and starting to blend in as new scales and skin had been slowly replacing what had been removed with each shedding.

The newer set, still pink, but slowly now where also fading to green as the new scales started to finely harden. She could tell these ones ran deeper, thus why they took much longer to heal and start to fade...

They clearly still caused him pain in some capacity. Mainly in a mental sense, physically? She wasn't sure, but all the same.. she wanted nothing more than to make the pain stop and let him know it was okay, she wasn't going to hurt him.

Gently, and without thinking, she gently moved her hand over his smaller spinal spines, and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on one of the larger spiraling scars, which cause Donatello to flinch in surprise.

He had NOT expected that, not at all! Let alone the feeling of it! It made his whole face light up red under his mask as he looked down at the floor.

Well, THAT made the trembling stop, that and likely make the rest of his brain preform its best reenactment of the "Blue screen of death".

"You okay?" Astra asked softly as she noticed his flinch at what she'd done, hoping she had not crossed a line.

"Y-Yep! Perfectly fine, he said not totally embarrassed at all! M-Merely just unexpected, that is all!" Donnie chuckled nervously, which earned a pout and a raised brow from Astra.

Donnie then cleared his throat, realizing that yes, even as an adult, he still sucked at lying.

"You're fine, it's fine, quite honestly, I... Did not dislike it, merely just... The thought nor action had ever crossed my mind before, thus I had not mentally prepared for such an outcome." Donnie corrected as he cleared his throat, and glanced to the side, a soft smile growing on his face.

"So, what you're saying is." Astra smiled. "Is I caught the hopeless romantic off guard?" She'd ask with an impish grin and snicker.

[poppiesandpromises]

A thick canopy of emotions stifles my ability to draw in a clear breath of redemptive self peace.

Hours I spent awake and in dream, mind focus on words said, vibrations carved beneath the surface of my skin, into the fibers of my heart.

I wake to a deserved blade In my chest, laughter as its twisted, only the attack was not intended. My blood runs from my wound, pools at my feet and I realize it's unseen, the cold steel wasn't a knife to them, but unintentionally sharpened words laid for a different purpose.

Words born from inflicted trauma and desire to turn their back to it.

Too weary to stand, too proud to lay and die.

Left with the choice to just pretend and see what they felt they saw, to turn the channel to a lighter sitcom, because ultimately most things in this world are a joke. I guess dark humor has its place.

Sit and watch the episode with the warped laugh track, until I am too depleted, too far gone to notice how blood soaked I have become.

Or stagger away, leaving a trail of drops behind me, praying that the closer I step to the warm sun, it cauterizes my wounds.

We all feel what we feel. Even if hurt is unintended, it hurts just the same. We all deserve to nurse our wounds, but we also deserve to heal. Hold yourself gently, the ragged wound will become a scar that reminds you that you survived. And you will survive again. Take care, anon. 🩷

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hello 👋 I was wondering if I could get a channeled message from my Guides who are my Ancestors? I'm going through a transformation but I don't know how to get from point A to point B spiritually. Some of my abilities have opened up like clairvoyance, I've battled depression for most of my adult life and I might of broken through some of that which I'm happy about! I know I have huge mission for our family because I'm most perceptive and have the time persay. My whole family's intuitive though. Some days it's really hard on me because I put the pressure of expectations upon myself, so if have any sight or encouragement that would be greatly appreciated! Thank you! N.V.W.

Yeah! I actually just got two new decks I’ve been dying to use. Literally perfect timing. Also, I’ve done a post about ancestors.

The way I understand ancestors is that they are like colleague souls who incarnate into the same bloodline. More advanced souls are sometimes called into certain bloodlines that have been upleveling so that they can clear massive amounts of karma and trauma. You can read more about that here.

All that to say, it’s important you understand that your very existence in this life and body is the answered prayer of generations of your bloodline. It’s very powerful to see yourself this way. When you understand the centuries of spiritual and physical work that allowed you to come in and be a generational change maker, it can bring you to tears. The only thing your ancestors want is for you to live the life they never could. We have so much more freedom to travel, to love, to pursue dreams than they had, and we are working to make that even easier for future generations. People get caught up a lot in ancestor work and what I want to say is you honor them by your life. As a woman, every time I speak up for myself, I’m clearing generations of women in my bloodline who couldn’t speak. It’s a lifetime of clearing work because our collective trauma runs deep. You don’t need to pray or do altars or whatever (unless you feel called), you honor them every time you call your power back to yourself.

Ancestors, what do you want to say?

Part of the clearing work you need to do is tied to the pressure you feel. Basically, we felt pressure like you do, we felt pressure to survive in all the ways that entails (I’m getting a vision of a slave, specifically a black American slave and they’re toiling at night by the fire). Your job is to feel that pressure to be more than you are, to carry our weight and to find your way back to lightness and peace. Every time you find your way back to peace in the face of pressure, you heal us a little more, you help us breathe in our own moments.

What people don’t understand is that everything is happening at once. While in your mind, we lived thousands of years ago, we are still partially in all our own timelines. By changing the present you ripple effects to the past and future. You effect our struggles that to you seemed to happen hundreds of years ago. You breathe peace for me, who is carrying water miles to our village (somewhere green and lush maybe like Costa Rica or South America, I’m seeing a naked brown skinned woman with long dark hair walking through a jungle), you breathe peace for the future ones grappling with the climate crisis.

The illusion of time is used to keep us separated, but we are alive in you and you are alive in us, we breathe collectively. This may seem confusing, but ultimately what you need to do is find ways to feel gratitude for the ease of your life that comes from our struggle, our blood, our tears. At your pressure points, breathe, feel the future of the line, feel the past of the line and push forward. Breathe us in. That’s part of why breath work helps so many, our breath and our blood unites us, draw on that power, oxygenate your blood that is ours too.

You are doing just fine. Your concerns are in your head, and we aren’t diminishing your struggles, but what we mean is that you put pressure on yourself by not seeing how you are always moving from point a to point b. There is no stagnant as long as you are alive. Sometimes movement is lateral or looks different. Flowers don’t always bloom, dear one. Neither will you. It’s a part of understanding the seasons and tides of life. Connect more with nature to ground into the rhythm of change. You do have a big mission but it’s not some thing out there, it’s you living right now. It’s you existing. That is the mission.

You feel the weight of your magnificent existence. That pressure you feel from us, that is you feeling our cries to the universe “all those years ago” which are now too. That’s why you must find your way back to peace, to help us heal in those hard moments. We feel your cries too. Isn’t it beautiful when you begin to understand how deeply we are all connected. You need to release expectations about what spiritual growth and about what blooming looks like. So much of humanity in your era has been warped by progress. Rest is still progress. Progress is an illusion that is framed by expectations of improvement. For something to need to move forward it must not be okay where it’s at and everything is always where it’s meant to be.

Don’t progress merely to keep from stillness, instead feel the energy of the activity you are engaging in (for it has its own desires too). Listen to what it wants and flow with it. Is something asking to be created through you, allow yourself to let energies flow through you. Don’t try to control the energies, let them flow and lead. This is how you surrender to the flow of life. You need to separate being from doing, doing comes from being, being does not come from doing. You are doing amazing. Love yourself more. Feel the true gift you are to us and our bloodline. You can cry to us anytime and we will lend our power, our breath and blood to you, it will surge, only do this in the calmest meditative states. It may feel like anxiety when it comes in, trust it. It’s just your system reacting. We love you. You got this. As long as your alive you’re living.

Chakra exploration cards

Solar Plexus— in what ways are you battling self doubt or a lack of self trust?

Healing mantra: I trust wholeheartedly in the spirit that animates me, the heart that guides me, and the path that calls me, I am confidently me

The opposite of fear is trust, the root of trust is love. To me this is confirming back what your ancestors were saying about how this pressure is all in your mind, created by your own lack of trust in your own divinity and that of all that surrounds you.

Crown Chakra— how can you bring more purpose, presence and intention into your daily life?

Healing mantra: I hold the power to direct the energy of my days and consciously craft my most fulfilling and meaningful reality.

More confirmation of what they are saying about coming to understand your place in your bloodline but also in time and space. When you understand the weight of your power and existence, you will begin to feel more purpose.

Crown chakra— when do you feel most aligned and at peace within yourself?

Healing mantra: I’m at peace in this body, I’m at peace in my heart, I’m at peace in my mind & I am at peace in this moment.

Ultimately I believe you have some healing work to do around your crown and solar plexus. Here’s my post on solar plexus chakra for some advice. For crown chakra work, spend time in silence and in nature. Meditate and try automatic writing. It means there’s a block in you receiving divine energy and to unblock that you have to be still enough and quiet enough to create a clear channel.

Would love to know how or if this resonates! Good luck!

[gnomeyflamingo]

✮ Just another day... ✮

We return to find Atreo sleeping soundly. *Eerie sloshing style noises*

Atreo: *jumps awake*  “What was that?”

Atreo: “AHH a MONSTER! Go away!”

Monster: “I wish I could little boy but the housing market is rough. I'm also going through an ugly divorce. Do you mind if I eat bits of your dead skin cells and hair? I’m starving.”

Atreo: "EW NO!"

*Has trauma bath*

Alejandro: “This is how you cook Acco. You handle your two knives simultaneously, chopping the watermelon with reckless abandon.”

Acco: “Wow!”

Alejandro: “And then you let the bowl of fruit salad slide down your arm, like this…”

Acco: “Teach me Papi!”

Brielle: “Show off."

Brielle comes home and receives amazing news; she has gotten promoted. She’s now a National Leader and all of her legacy goals have been completed, except for one! Brielle: “Woo I reached the top of my passionless, dead end job! I’m soaking in it, I have ARRIVED!”

Atreo: “Congrats on your promotion Mum. So my birthday is coming up and I was thinking…”

Brielle: “We’re not leaving Acco at home.”

Atreo: “Come on! It’s MY birthday, I should get to invite sims I actually like.”

Brielle: "He's your brother."

Atreo: "And?"

Brielle: “Atreo really hates Acco and I don’t know what to do about it. He’s the heir now, the battle is over. Your move.”

Alejandro: “We can't force anything. I mean Atreo's been calling me by my first name since he aged into a toddler. All we can hope for is a character arch."

In true Atherstone fashion, Acco brought Helmuth home from school and they’ve become best friends forever.

Helmuth: “And then when my teacher heard my name, she cried and hugged me, telling me to stay strong! I'm so changing my name!"

Acco: "Ooh let's come up with name ideas!"

Acco: “Dear diary, today I’ve become BFF’s with Helmuth. He's thinking of changing his name and we had a brainstorm session. He now wants to be known as Otto, after one of the cats on our lot.”

Atreo: "Another scout promotion for me! Making those garlic wreaths is paying off!"

Alejandro: “You can do this buddy. Draw those lines! You’re holding that crayon excellently.”

Atreo: “Thanks for the encouragement.” 

Acco: “And then the tooth fairy-”

Atreo: “Shut up Acco, you're distracting me! I’m busy wiring this motherboard into my school project.”

Otto: “MURDER! HELLP! MURDERRRRRRR!”

Kelsy: “What was that about? A knife through my neck? Seriously?!”

Alejandro: “I told you to move.”

Kelsy: “How am I still alive?”

Alejandro: “I’m a really good cook.”

Kelsy: "Then FEED ME!"

Brielle's using her telescope for the first time, not realising I have WW installed.

Brielle: “Hehe I wonder what my neighbours are up to-OMW! Close the curtains! That’s not even the bedroom!”

As Brielle averts her eyes in embarrassment, the snow falls and Winterfest begins!

In the early morning…

Helicopter pilot: “The prisoner is loose and is throwing glitter and glue into my eyes! Where did she even get it from- she just jumped out- mayday, mayday, helicopter is going down-”

***Cool and dramatic explosion***

Keahola: “Must. Heal. From. Third Degree. Burns. And. Broken. Bones. Must. Be.... Nanny!”

*smoke and fire clears*

Keohola: “Hey that worked! My immense passion has healed my injuries. Great. I’m coming Atherstone boys. Nanny is back!” 

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❧ Back to the Legacy Archive

[marichild]

uhhhh I went insane and wrote. a drabble(?) about it. shifted timelines to post cannibalism arc and I already have a plot ish in my head but yeah atsushi isn't actually dead because I may cry trying to write that. it'd break me.

Atsushi isn't breathing.

"Shit," Ryuunosuke breathes out, "shit, shit, Jinko—"

There's blood and Atsushi's left arm and right leg are missing and he's so sickly pale, paler than Ryuunosuke; panic makes his head spin and he clutches Atsushi closer, tilting his head to check his pulse.

"Shit, shit, shit," he repeats, willing Rashoumon not to pull back lest he drop Atsushi from his trembling arms, shaking so much he can't believe it, "shit, Jinko, wake up, wake up, you're not supposed to die yet, not yet—"

It's there. Faint, so faint, he almost misses it, wingbeats fluttering to nothing, but it's there, and it doesn't do anything to dissipate the panic clinging to his lungs because it's fading fast—

more interactions with kuni and dazai once he gets atsushi to the ada under cut!

tw mild mental health stuff (mentions of a psychotic episode)

"I thought you'd want Atsushi to die," Kunikida says after a long moment. "Haven't you been hellbent on killing him this entire time?"

Ryuunosuke's eyes narrow. "What are you trying to say, detective?" he growls. "Are you insinuating that I'd kill the weretiger in an unfair fight? Or are you saying that I'm here to go against my boss's orders?"

"You did do this," Kunikida returns, just as heated.

Rashoumon springs out, arching toward Kunikida's throat. "How dare you—"

"Now, now," Dazai cuts in, one hand darting out to stop Rashoumon in its tracks, and Ryuunosuke flinches back, mind a flurry of shield shield shield before he remembers, "you're disobeying Mori-san's orders now, Akutagawa-kun. Cooperation won't work if you kill our second-in-command."

For a second, betrayal rips through Ryuunosuke, as familiar as it is sour. Why would Dazai-san protect that man? And then he remembers, Dazai-san's loyalties are different. As it has been for four years.

"I didn't kill the weretiger on purpose," he says, surprised by how ragged he sounds. "That's not—we had an agreement. I wouldn't violate that. I wouldn't ever try to."

"He's not dead, Akutagawa-kun," Dazai draws back, settling onto the couch with his legs crossed again. "Yosano-san was able to heal him. That's her ability, remember?"

Ryuunosuke doesn't understand why his legs nearly give out with relief. "Huh?" he manages. Dazai's mouth curls, vaguely amused as always. "He's not—?"

"The problem is that he isn't waking up," Kunikida says, now standing a healthy distance away from them both. "His body is physically fine now. The tiger regrew his arm and leg too. We think it has to do with his mental state."

"His mental state?"

"Atsushi-kun was in the hospital for a psychotic episode a week ago," Dazai says. "He hasn't fully recovered. That, and the blunt force trauma, is probably what's keeping him down."

"Psychotic...?"

"He has a rough history," Dazai tells him. "It's not my place to divulge the details, but his short life has been miserable. He's had a good few months here at the Agency, but only a few months of reprieve could happen before his demons caught up to him."

The first thing Ryuunosuke thinks is, is that why you prefer him to me? and he has to tamp it down, because that's hardly the most important thing, it's all too clear that Dazai simply doesn't have Ryuunosuke down as a priority anymore even if he hates it. And then, "how old is the weretiger?"

"My, you don't even know that?" Dazai actually looks amused now, mouth curled, eyebrows raised, eyes twinkling. Hot shame flushes Ryuunosuke's skin. "Atsushi's eighteen years old."

Shit, is Ryuunosuke's only coherent thought. That's—barely two years younger than Ryuunosuke, but—he's young. He'd just assumed Atsushi looked young, but eighteen is a life hardly lived. Psychotic episodes? What causes such—?

"I'd have thought you'd make it your business to know as much as you could," Dazai says. "Isn't he your rival, Akutagawa-kun?"

Truthfully, Ryuunosuke couldn't handle looking into Atsushi. Learning something about Dazai's new subordinate, his new protege, beyond what's necessary—rage and hate and despair claw so thickly up his throat when he thinks about it, a chorus of unfair unfair unfair why you why you why you ringing in his ears.

He's not Dazai. He's not Chuuya. He's not like them, obsessively nitpicking details about his rival, finding tricks and secrets to play with—no, he'd take on Atsushi headfirst, in a fair fight of strength and willpower. Except, except, right now—

"Will he wake?" he asks, struggling to breathe. He shouldn't be so bothered. He's killed a hundred men and a hundred more for pettier reasons. For reasons not much less shallower than violence, plain and simple. Yet, when it's Nakajima Atsushi, who he promised a fair fight, who he's lent his power twice—

that's p much all I got :d might make it into a full fic eventually!!!

Waking up to a nightmare (colored ver)

[modern-inheritance]

MIC art idea that I've wanted to do

For a long time now I've been getting flashes of this image in my head of Eragon and Co. during the Escape timeline all together in camp. I'm horrible at drawing faces and, as I've mentioned before, have never really had the ability to form images of the faces of characters I read or write in my head, so this will probably never happen to completion. I'll probably attempt to start it one day though.

They're in a clearing of sorts, probably with a rock outcrop on one side or some sort of hill/face/something shielding one side. Or it's completely just a nice big clearing due to a big ol tree having fallen at some point and there's a half rotted trunk that Saphira's resting one side against, big gouge marks from her sinking her claws in to sharpen them and stretch at some point.

Saphira's lounging, one front paw stretch out while the other is curled closer to her chest. The classic lounging cat pose if you will. She's watching Eragon, amused at his expression and mentally teasing him.

Brom's in the middle of setting up something to eat, a small fire starting to smolder and a bunch of ration pack bits and bobs laid out around him. There's some sort of overhang built over it, something to hopefully split any smoke and disperse it enough that it's not seen. He's got that customary scowl on his face, gesturing in annoyance at Murtagh across the way.

Murtagh is standing with the horses, digging something out of the saddlebags and rolling his eyes at Brom's typical gruff treatment of him. He's already started understanding it's just how the old man acts, especially towards the son of his greatest enemy, and, though annoying, doesn't much take the roughness to heart. It reminds him a bit of Tornac, really. He's snapping something back that's dripping with sarcasm.

Arya's sitting with her knees draw up to her chest, ankles crossed, arms wrapped around them and clasping her opposite wrist over the swathes of bandages that are currently protecting the fragile skin that is slowly forming scars. Her tanktop has been discarded on the ground beside her. She's got that sharp, bared toothed smile on her face, watching Brom and Murtagh go at it like they do every night.

Eragon's knelt behind the elf, cheeks and tips of his tapering ears flared red as he hovers a hand over a half healed wound. He has a small pile of fresh bandages, non-stick trauma pads and tape by his knee. He's trying his hardest not to touch and Saphira's not helping by reminding him that he had been, in her words, 'handsy' the first night he healed their new companion. Despite Arya's back being a mess of stitches, open wounds, shiny scars, scaled burns and almost completely covered in a variety of bruises, he is still getting used to the fact that he is staring at a shirtless woman every other night.

Iunno, I just like the idea of them all having what has become a new normal night/day at camp for them. A moment to breathe.

[fertility-journey]

Banana Purification Treatment

I’m excited to be doing Banana Purification Treatment whilst the Raju family tour Australia and NZ. This is an Ayurvedic treatment that is said to have positive outcomes. I had originally booked in for the supporting consultations of Marma Banana Treatment and a Quick Pulse Diagnosis but I am blessed to be spotting and therefore did not have to do the extra sessions - I could go straight to the treatments. I could attend the minimum three treatments across three days in between some personal and business travel so it was meant to be. I’ll be documenting my experience. https://vitalveda.com.au/treatments/banana-purification-dr-raju/

https://www.drraju.com/explore-ayurveda/specialized-therapies/banana-purification-treatment

The "Raju Banana Purification” is a powerful therapy that cleanses the entire physiology and restores gynaecological health.

It is ideally taken by those whilst on their menstrual cycle, but is also effective for any gender who will not be menstruating at the time of visits, to balance hormones, enhance fertility and to profoundly purify and detoxify the physiology.

Ayurveda views the menstrual cycle as a deep detox and profound purification that a woman is blessed to have once a month.

This unique treatment that is exclusively performed by the Raju Family immensely enhances this purification process.

Banana Purification deeply cleanses the entire body, particularly the female reproductive system, but also cleanses and strengthens the male reproductive organs and hormones.

Even if the problems are deeply rooted, significant relief can be achieved from this 3-5 day program. The program also helps to balance the hormonal system so emotions become more even and smooth.

Some of the areas BT is very helpful in:

dysmenorrhea (painful periods)

irregular periods

endometriosis

abnormal cervical cells

fibroids and cysts

amenorrhea (absence of menstruation)

menorrhagia (heavy periods)

chronic acne, hormonal acne, dermatitis and skin disorders

thyroid disorders

conception optimisation and infertility

menopause and night-sweats

energy levels and fatigue

trauma inflicted on sexual organs

imbalances caused by a virus or side-effects by certain medical interventions

under-developed reproductive organs

deep emotional imbalances, traumas and patterns

deeply rooted digestive disorders

pre-mature ejaculation, erectile dysfunction and low libido

+ much more

A single banana purification done properly during menstruation has benefits, depending on the person, is equal to 1-2, 28-day intensive Panchakarmas (Ayurveda's premier detox & rejuvenation program).

Duration of Banana Purification Program

Menstruating women do the Banana Purification for the duration of their menstrual cycle.

Those not on their cycle generally do 3 - 5 consecutive days. 7 days is also possible.

1-3 days is also beneficial.

Allow approx. 60 mins for each session, though it may take 10 mins (depending on when you are called up to receive your dose).

Banana Purification Involves

Taking herbs specially prepared with bananas during each day of the therapy.

Adhering to a specific and simple diet.

Taking plenty of rest so that the body can devote all its energy to clearing and healing. The treatment draws out toxins from all over the body which they are expelled. Still profound detoxification happens for those not bleeding during this program.

Essential Things to Know For Your Banana Purification

The more precise you follow these procedures, the more increased benefits you will get.

Donation:

The Raju forefathers, who handed down this unique and wonderful knowledge to their family, specified that the Banana program itself should be given free of charge so that there is no financial barrier for anyone to have its benefits.

Donations are required to cover expenses only whenever a Raju travels to give the Banana Purification. Raju family members are traveling from overseas solely to provide the Banana Purification. Donations will also go towards yagyas (vedic ceremonies) which will be performed on your behalf.

Suggested donation: minimum of $80/day, (example: 3 days of BT = minimum of $240). Cash only.

Please put total cash for the duration of your treatment (e.g. 3 days of BT = minimum of $240) in an envelope with your name written on it + the days and location you will be doing BT before your first dose.

You are encouraged to drop your envelope off to the BT location days in advance to your scheduled BT, since your donation envelope is part of the preparation ceremony, and having it in advance is beneficial.

Please contact us to drop your donation in advance.

3 Categories of People Can do BT:1. Women and those with female genitalia menstruating at the time

This is the traditional powerful way to do BT.

We highly encourage you to travel to the city/area wherever the Rajus are at the time you are menstruating.

Women travel from all over the globe to India to spend only a few days in India just for Banana Purification, so traveling inter-state if the opportunity is there is well worth the benefits!

One Banana Purification (3-7 days) during your menstrual cycle is equal to one to two 28-day panchakarmas (Ayurveda’s premier detox & rejuvenation program).

You cannot receive Pulse consultation or MBT while you are menstruating, but you are blessed to do BT at this time.

Unlimited spots available for BT for those menstruating.

2. Anyone who has previously received BT but will not be menstruating at the time

If you are not menstruating at the time you book your BT, you must book and receive at least one Marma Banana Treatment (MBT) session before your BT program starts, in order to receive BT.

For example:

If you want to do BT for 3 nights on: Thursday night, Friday night and Saturday night, you must do MBT Thursday afternoon.

You can also book as many MBTs as you want. You could do a session on Thursday, Friday and Saturday afternoon before you receive each dose of BT for maximum effect. Read about the power of MBT above.

3. Those who have never received BT and will not be menstruating at the time

For all genders.

If you have never received Banana Purification and will not be menstruating at the time, you must book one Ayurvedic Pulse Consultation or Quick Pulse Check and at least one Marma Banana Treatment (MBT) session in order to receive BT.

This is because the doctors need to assess what MBT and BT to give you for your specific medical needs.

Furthermore, Pulse and MBT done as a prerequisite to receiving BT will help open the physical channels, enliven kundalini (energy) and purify the chakras (energy centres) so you can receive the maximum effects of the Banana Purification.

If your desired time for a MBT session is unavailable, you can book a full consultation (if available) and have your MBT session during that consultation. You must additionally bring $200-$216 cash in an envelope with your name and details on it. Total session time for consult & MBT is 25mins only.

Other Considerations:

You must observe minimum 30 minutes of silence before and after and during taking the medicine.

Please arrive on time and sit in silence while you wait for your name to be called up to take your medicine.

Diet:

On the days undergoing the Banana Treatment, ideally one should not take any herbs or dietary supplements etc. Medicines if you can avoid them during BT or have later (away from the BT) will be best. If you need to take your medications, absolutely do so. - Any issues regarding this or if you want to talk about it, contact us.

The banana herbs should be taken on a completely empty stomach or very light stomach. E.g. no food 3-4 hours before. Water is fine.

Completely fast 1 hour before and taking the Banana Purification (no water)

The day of starting BT (in the evening) you have normal light food and then you only start with milk rice after 1 hour of the first dose of BT (if you are hungry).

If taking Banana Purification at night, you don't have to eat after, you can go straight to bed.

Regimen:

A time to go inward and rest - It is encouraged you keep socialising to a minimum. You will probably be quite tired during the Banana Purification, so it is best you avoid strenuous activity, work, studying, going out etc. Sleeping during the day is permitted. Think of this as a stretch of "time for yourself" where you can profoundly rest and purify.

If you need to work or attend to family duties, that is fine, but try have at least one hour to yourself in silence and inward attention after taking the BT.

Do not use tampons during Banana Purification as this impedes the free flow of toxins out of the body and may cause toxins to be reabsorbed as a result.During the days of menstrual flow, it is traditional for you not to touch or have anyone touch you during this time as many impurities are coming out of the body (especially strong during the Banana Purification) and you want to maintain this potent energy in yourself.

Other Information You Need To Know:

It is important to swallow the banana piece whole when the doctor gives it to you  - Do not chew it or allow it to touch your teeth.

Use your right hand to “feed” the banana piece into your mouth.

Do not talk for 30 minutes before you receive the banana herbs and 30 minutes afterwards. Results are more powerful with inward attention and silence during this time.

Every meal during the Banana Purification should be "milk rice". If you have trouble digesting cows milk, try a smaller quantity raw or unhomogensied cows milk boiled. If this is still uncomfortable, you may have plain white rice only. Almond, coconut, rice, soy or goats milk is not allowed.

Rarely people feel aversion to eating milk rice every meal. If this happens and you really cannot tolerate it, have milk rice or plain white rice for the first meal (after taking the Banana Purification), then for the meals after that you may add a little jaggery or quality raw sugar in the milk rice to add some flavor and reduce the aversion. Note that this is not ideal for the full benefits of the Banana Purification. Plain milk rice is best during menstrual cycle. You can also have fresh, simple food throughout if you are really struggling with diet.

If you have aversion or cannot cope with just milk rice or plain rice contact us to discuss the best meal plan.

Continue sipping hot water frequently during the Banana Purification days to help melt and remove the toxins.

[lemondropdancer]

Grounding Techniques

Mental Distraction Techniques

Pick a category of objects and try to think of as many objects as possible that fit within that category (e.g., types of dogs, cities, types of trees, crayon colors, sports)

Pick a letter and think of emotionally positive or neutral words that begin with that letter

Pick a color and look for things of that color. Notice differences in their exact shades

Say or think the alphabet backwards or alternate letters and numbers (A1, B2, C3, D4, etc)

Count backwards from 100 by 3s, 6s, or 7s or count up by prime numbers or perfect squares

Play "fizz-buzz" with yourself. Begin counting to 100 (or over!), but replace any number that contains the number 5 or is a multiple of 5 with the word "fizz" and any number that contains the number 7 or is a multiple of 7 with the word "buzz." For example, 1-15 would be "1, 2, 3, 4, fizz, 6, buzz, 8, 9, fizz, 11, 12, 13, buzz, fizz." When you mess up, compliment yourself and start over

Think of the words to your favorite song or poem or think of facts related to a specific theme

Pick a word or your name and see how many other words you can make from the letters in it

Describe an every day event or process in great detail, listing all of the steps in order and as thoroughly as possible (e.g., how to cook a meal, how to get from your house to your place of work or school, how to do your favorite dance)

Read something technical or meant for children or read words backwards to focus on the process of reading and not the words

Watch a children's television show or movie or watch cute or funny videos on Youtube; it might help to have a playlist already prepared for this

Look at a current news article that is not likely to be upsetting or distressing

Distract yourself with Tetris, Solitaire, Sudoku, word searches, or other puzzle games

Reorientation Techniques

Say or think to yourself: "My name is _________. I am safe right now. I am _____ years old. I am currently at _____________. The date is _____________. If I need help, I am with ________/can call _________. Everything is going to be alright."

List reaffirming statements ("I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. I am strong. I can handle this.")

Ask yourself where you are, what day of the week it is, what day of the month it is, what month it is, what year it is, what season it is, how old you are, and other present-focused questions

Notice things in your surroundings that indicate to you that you're safe or that you're in the present (e.g., locks on your door, electronics that didn't exist when you were younger, the presence of trusted people, a phone so that you can call for help if you need it)

Describe your surroundings in detail, including sights (objects, textures, shapes, colors), sounds, smells, and temperature

Name five things that you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, and two that you smell or taste, and then name one good thing that you like about yourself

Pick four or five brightly colored objects that are easily visible and move your focus between them. Be sure to vary the order of your gaze and concentrate briefly on each one before moving to the next

Think about a fun time that you recently had with a friend or call that friend and ask them to talk about it with you

Sensory-Based Grounding Techniques

Run cool or warm (but not too cold or hot) water over your hands or take a cool or warm bath or shower

Spritz your face (with eyes closed), neck, arms, and hands with a fine water mist

Spray yourself with your favorite perfume and focus on the scent

Feel the weight of your body in your chair or on the floor and the weight of your clothing on your skin

Touch and hold objects around you. Compare the feel, weight, temperature, textures, colors, and materials

Keep a small object with you to touch or play with when you get triggered. Good examples include a smooth stone, a fidget toy, jewelry, or a tiny plushy

Bite into a lemon, orange, or lime, suck on a sour or minty candy or an ice cube, chew cinnamon-flavored gum, or put a few drops of Tabasco sauce on your tongue. Notice the flavor, scent, and texture

Eat something or drink warm tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and describe to yourself the taste and texture in great detail

Place a cool wash cloth on your face or hold something cold like a can of soda

Listen to soothing or familiar music. If possible, dance to it

Hum, sing, recite poetry, or make up a silly poem or story as you go

Pick up a book and read the first paragraph out loud

Hug another person (if interpersonal touch isn't a trigger). Pay attention to your own pressure and the physical sensations of doing so

Hug a tree! Register the smells of being outside, the wind, and the sights around you

Movement-Based Grounding Techniques

Breathe deeply and slowly and count your breaths

Grab tightly onto your chair or press your feet against the ground as firmly as you can

Rub your palms and clap your hands or wiggle your toes within your socks. Pay attention to the physical sensation of doing so

Stretch out your arms or legs, roll your head on your neck, or clench and unclench your fists

Stomp your feet, walk around, run, jump, ride a bike, do jumping jacks, or do yoga

While walking, notice each footstep and say to yourself "right" and "left" to correspond with the foot currently moving

Squeeze a pillow, stuffed animal, or ball

If you have a soft pet (dog or cat), brush its fur and stroke it. If you don't, brush your own hair slowly and without pulling too much

Color in an adult coloring book, finger paint, or draw anything that comes to mind without worrying about quality

Write whatever comes to mind even if it's nonsense. Try not to write about whatever is upsetting you until you're more capable of doing so without increasing the upset

Write a list of things that make you happy or look for cheerful pictures to make into a collage

Pop bubble wrap or blow and pop actual bubbles

Dig in the dirt or garden, jump on a pile of leaves, or splash around in puddles or mud

Rip up paper or stomp on aluminum cans to crush them

Imagery Techniques

Picture yourself breathing in relaxation, calm, positive feelings, or strength. Picture yourself breathing out whatever is upsetting you. It may help to pair this with imagery of breathing in soothing colors (usually blue, purple, or green) and out more intense colors (usually red or black)

If you need to relax, envision a soothing white or golden light slowly moving up your body, warming and relaxing every part of you that it touches. You can also think of it as protecting you from negativity or from harm

If the problem is intense or uncomfortable emotions, physical sensations, or memories, picture them being surrounded and neutralized by a bright and healing light, temporarily placed in a mental box to be stored for later, or dialed back by an internal controller of intensity

If you have a clear mental picture of what's upsetting you, mentally change it to something silly or harmless. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, cast a mental "riddikulus" to banish the negativity

Picture yourself calm, focused, and able to tackle whatever problems you're facing. Focus on how that would feel in the moment. What would your expression and posture be like? Make whatever changes you need to in order to make your reality reflect your goal

How to Make a Grounding Box

Get a box or basket

Personalize and decorate it with construction paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, stickers, drawings, paint, photographs, glitter, sequins, or anything else that you like

Keep within it:

A list of grounding techniques that you know work for you

A list of positive affirmations and happy memories

A list of the contact information of trusted friends or family who are willing to help and support you

Small sensory objects such as: scented candles, perfumes, or lotions; hard candies or gum; soft fabrics, a stress ball, a stuffed animal, or a fidget toy; happy pictures of you with friends; a CD with relaxing music or meditation tracks. Try to cover all of the senses

A list of possible distractions such as books to read or movies to watch

Small portable distractions such as a pack of playing cards, a small game, or a joke book

A list of comforting things to do such as taking a bubble bath, snuggling up in bed, or meditating

A small journal or notebook

In the Case of a Flashback

Tell yourself that you are having a flashback and are safe now

Remind yourself that the worst is over, and you survived it. What you're feeling now is just a reminder of that trauma and does not fit the present moment

Remind yourself of when and where you are, who you're currently with, and who you can contact if you need help (use the reorientation-focused grounding techniques)

Breathe deeply and slowly. Count your breathes and make sure that you're getting enough air

Use other mental, sensory, movement, and imagery techniques in order to distract yourself, calm yourself, and reorient yourself within the present

If possible or necessary, go somewhere where you can be alone or with a close friend, where you will feel safe, or where you feel protected or shielded

If there is anyone who you can trust or who will support you, reach out to them, let them know what happened, and let them know what you need, what would be best for you, or what they could do to help

Be gentle with yourself and take the time to really recover. If what helps you to recover is to color, take a bubble bath, hug a stuffed animal, or watch a children's movie and if it would not be disruptive to do such things at that point in time, embrace those options whole-heartedly

If possible, note or write down what triggered the flashback, what techniques you tried to use to disrupt the flashback, and what techniques helped

[trifoliumrex]

MOMMY? like mommy. I'm sorry money? ok the smut was wooooo boy clearred my skin watered my crops and all that. i just.

Yoongi. seeing his mate healed. finally getting to see her as someone who isn't in danger of fading away. The love they have for each other is so palpable! I love the idea that like... if their world was "perfect" they wouldn't have end up mated but like chose each other. like there is something in the choosing. like choice overcoming fate. it think if the genera shifted, like more fantasy vibes. their love would be the kind that would destroy empires and raise new ones. the kind that made magic happen. i also love yoongi growling ours. like in such a head space and ooo him being like girls kiss? good! fucking? my girls ! uhg great! NOW onto H O B I i love them in that stupid car that i just know is going to cost them all so much. is this... FORESHADOWING ?! we will seeeeee. I think its so fitting for hobi to realize at least on some level his feeling in a moment of trauma or dare I say violence. and one thta he feels responsible for? what a parallel to yoongi! GOOD i hope they talk about it one day after all the chips fall and hobi understands the leaving better. I hope it eases a burden for him. the bunny. uhg and her not being able to leave it. uhhhg. i hope she tells namjoon about it. i hope namjoon draws the connection between it and noodle that I am. that he sees her in the bunny. i know dom namjoon is so enticing but like. i hope also that we get to see them have a really soft moment too. Also...love seeing hobi cry srry

Before I Leave You (Pt.50)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: two different first times, two different outcomes.

Tags: Dom! Yoongi, Dom! Tae, Sub! reader, Trans! Taehyung, Mommy! tae, Mommy kink, Omega Space, KNOTTING, breeding kink, belly bulge, implied cervix fucking (it’s my universe and i can do what i want with it), marking kink, nipple play, threesome, sloppy seconds, dacryphilia, cumplay, cum marking, dirty talk, body worship, discussion of past eating disorders, talk of the m/c gaining weight, dysphoria mention, Near death Experiences, First kisses, Dead bodies, stupidity 

W/c: 15.2k

A/n: suspend your disbelief for this one please <3 Let’s have a big round of applause for the 50th chapter 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏 if you told me 2 years ago that i’d still be writing bily i don’t think i would have believed you! Please give this chapter lots of love  <3 it took a lot of hard work to get to this point!! the lovely @imperiussexrex​ has made a little bily discord server over here- it’s basically just a very casual group chat. I also have the recipe for the mug cake that the m/c makes if anyone wants it! 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

The bruise on Tae’s hip from her first two weeks of estrogen shots has spread like the ink from watercolors. The pink and purple bruise lies over the cusp of her hip like blooming peonies. The ache there turns tender with her showers. A constant reminder of what she’s lost, and what she has to gain.

It’s the end of the day already, and Namjoon’s not home yet.

Keep reading

[ruiniel]

Eager

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+

Count: 2.3k

Tags: Second Person POV, Emotional, Light smut, Oral sex (m receiving), Al is out of his depth in this one, But he rallies quickly, Teasing, Reference to past trauma

All characters depicted are 18+, of course

Summary:

An older short converted into x reader. In this scenario Reader character is a young scholar, and the setting is sometime after season III. So... you're close, but you haven't tried everything yet.

“She is... human.”

Trevor raises a dark eyebrow to accompany his grin, leaning back in his chair with a smug look on his face. His skin is yet smeared with dirt, his clothes dusty with travel. His eyes never leave his tall, fair-haired friend.

“Very,” Alucard offers after a while. He looks towards the entrance, drumming his long fingers absently on the table. It hasn’t been long since Trevor and Sypha returned, and now Alucard and Trevor sit in the wide kitchen, awkward and quiet, both inwardly pleased and relieved to be in each other's company. Alucard discerns the beating of another heart, a cadence he knows well by now. It mellows and unwinds him, and his lips part as the beat draws nearer.

“... Alucard,” Trevor clears his throat, the tone unmistakably teasing. “I know I’m not as fetching,”  he drawls, “nor is my smile as pretty, but surely I deserve at least a shred of your attention?”

“And you said I never shut up,” Alucard murmurs without looking at Trevor, sounding mildly irritated, though the upward curl of his lip speaks truth. They are here, his friends; truly here, after all that happened; he is so happy he can barely contain it, and he’s not at all sure how to handle it either. This strange new reality bolts through him with a frightful speed that both confuses and wears him; too good to be true.

He turns his head, and his gaze falls on two figures entering the kitchen space, speaking with animated gestures. Sypha is her usual lively, assured self; she listens to you speak, a mild smile on her youthful face. Both women appear to have taken their meeting in stride, having returned from the laboratory where you showed the Speaker magician the supplies to aid with their healing injuries.

As drawn by an unseen force, you fall silent when your eyes cut to Alucard, your sight melting into gold. You seem content and excited, and the scent of you pleases, tickles and riles him. Damn this. There it comes again, that urgent need to hold you impossibly close and impossibly tight, until neither knows where one ends and the other begins, until he again falls on the sharp knife of the change you brought into his life.

“It seems you two have had enough time catching up, for now,” Sypha chimes, her whimsical curls bouncing as she takes a seat by Trevor’s side. 

Trevor scoffs. “Not really,” he mutters in his low, dry voice, “I was actually waiting for you to share the exciting parts,” the hunter says on a sigh, smiling at the Speaker's narrowing eyes.

“The exciting parts?” Alucard wonders, looking between them, then follows you as you head to the corner of the kitchen for water. Looking back to his friends, his long-missed companions, Alucard sees their bearing change, as though a storm brews above them both.

“Let's say…” Sypha hesitates. “We sought and received more than we bargained for.” Her eyes catch you, now returning and holding an ewer with water. You pass by Alucard, and a hand on his shoulder has him tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “It is a long story,” Sypha continues. She sees the son of Dracula smile, a mild and honest display, and knows he’d not heard her words. 

Sypha had never seen him this way. The cold, withering darkness she had always sensed about him is frayed and receding, and whoever you are, whatever the circumstances of your meeting, what she sees has Sypha look at Trevor, and a silent exchange passes between them. If only for this, for the smile she sees lighting once drawn, miserable features, she feels a stir of affinity towards the stranger that is you.

You bid them farewell just then, saying you’ll retire, and soon your steps recede from the kitchen to fade along the corridors.

Sypha watches you leave; her gaze seeks Alucard, who listens until the sound dies away.

Silence falls between the three of them. Sypha considers it all. Their own struggles can wait. “...But we have enough time for long stories, I should think,” she glances at Trevor, who’s lost of his wit and is gazing at her intently, a shadow on his lean features. He lowers his head.

“If nothing else,” Alucard says then, appearing to snap back to reality as he looks at Sypha. “I have stories of my own to share.”

~~

You pace back and forth through the wide chamber. There’s an enormous stone fireplace built against one wall, burning merrily, sending shadows dancing and shivering across the room.

You sit on the bed, thinking of recent events and your decision to pursue Styria, in aid of your quest. Now, with the unexpected arrival of his companions, you wonder how you will proceed.

The night is dark, and cold stars gleam beyond the arched window. You sigh, lying down on your back, waiting. Peace and stillness are gifts most cherished, after all that passed since you stumbled into his life.

You’re half-asleep when there is a shift in the air, and your eyes open to the sight of Adrian closing the door behind him. There’s a mild smile on his face, turned enigmatic in the weak lighting. Much had changed between you since you leapt together, past fears and shadow, into the unknown.

Slowly you rise, your nightgown spun in silken waves around your bare legs.

“I showed them to a chamber,” Adrian says by way of greeting. “Tired?” he asks, removing and  flinging his coat carelessly onto a chair.

You tilt your head to the side. The look in his eyes keeps you on edge, feeds your trepidation. “That depends,” you say. Your gaze follows him as Adrian removes his boots and nears the bed, which dips slightly when he lounges on the edge, close to you.

You crawl over to him on your knees, and on impulse bring your arms around him; pushing into his back, tightening your hold and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek; your heart speeds as Adrian turns his head, enough so you feel his soft breath on your lips.

“Depends on what, scholar?” he asks with a smirk and that same dry tone you once loathed. His eyes had darkened, gaining that shade of copper you had seen before; otherworldly, feral.

“On what happens now.” Seduction is rather new to you, but you doubt he minds, considering he’s not all that far ahead compared to you. On the contrary: many things are new to you both. Carefully, slowly, you nip at his lower lip, tugging and releasing with a soft ‘pop’.

“Mmm…” he wastes not a breath but leans into your kiss, cupping your face with his hand. He takes the challenge, deepening what you'd begun. His arm coils around you, possessive, twisting and moving so you’re fastened in the stronghold of his arms, writhing and turning until you’re held fast to his chest, in his lap. His pulse is running, stumbling over yours in a desperate race.

Warmth spreads through you. “Your friends are glad to be here,” you breathe as he breaks away, reaching and twirling a pale gold strand around your finger.

“As am I,” his eyes close when you wiggle against him, pressing light, warm kisses along the slope of his jaw.

“Except... for the hunter, maybe,” you jest.

Adrian huffs; with your teasing, the shade of his irises has turned deep crimson. The sight arouses you, cannot be helped. It reminds you of your first time together, the things he had done to you… the things you had done to him. You press your thighs together, chest heaving in anticipation. “He called you, and I quote, very annoying,” you say. Your expression changes in mischief, allowing yourself to be ordered down to him as Adrian lies on the bed.

“Yes,” his lips alight on yours, “He would say that.” His hand runs up your thigh, finding bare skin.

“But... why?” you manage, struggling to contain your trepidation, fingers threading through his soft hair, now fanned like a halo over the sheets.

Adrian smiles, shaking his head. “Give us about two days, and you will see.”

You arch your back, pushing into his side, and see the lopsided smile on his features as he brings you closer.

“Eager…” he presses his nose to your neck, breathes you in.

You shiver, violently.

“... Is that blood sense of yours really so accurate?” you quip, now busy undoing the front of his fine shirt. It’s not a monumental task to guess your current state anyway, vampiric powers or no.

And how could you be any different when he watches you like he does? When his skin is so warm and fine, wrapped around hard muscle that tenses at your every touch. You reveal his chest, the angry scar winding down his torso, running a hand over it before freeing yourself of his hold and rising to your knees, leaning over your prisoner: so delightful as he lies there, open and willing. You can barely contain yourself as your head dips down, lips briefly finding the tip of his nose, then his chin; looking him in the eye you straddle him, allowing the full weight of your lower body to sink onto his.

Adrian had propped himself on his elbows, watching you unravel him, sighing with every soft kiss, his flaring eyes half-closed. “No blood sense,” he says, his voice hoarser, “Just... just you.” He grins, fangs glistening in the semi-darkness.

“Anyway,” you bite your lip, leaning to mouth at the skin of his chest. “I never took you for annoying.” Another kiss, lower, then another. Your nose runs a little circle around the space close to the fastenings of his trousers, and you smile at the pale-gold line arrowing down, disappearing beneath the material. “I could certainly agree to stubborn…” you rise again and watch him closely, unbuckling his belt.

“What—”

You pull, and his hips lift slightly as the belt comes off and is discarded.

“...infuriating…” you follow, breathing warm air onto his skin.

His head falls back in a weak sigh. He’s already hard, obviously so; you run a hand over him anyway, watching his eyes flare into a wild glow.

“... and,” you undo his trousers, releasing him. “... and haughty…”

He scoffs, followed by another rumble deep in his throat when you take him in hand and stroke. Your eyes find his again as you’re splayed over him, lips inches from his cock. 

“... but never annoying,” you say, a little breathless now. You like it, seeing him so lost; you love being the cause.

His hand comes to rest over yours, squeezing and moving in a rhythm, his lower body prey to a sudden spasm. His other hand clutches the sheets. You don’t stop, leveling him with a grin that nearly shatters him. Adrian follows the tilt of your head, how your lips ghost over him. He blinks, and the long muscles in his thighs tense against you. His hand shoots to grasp the back of your head as he understands what you wanted to do, preventing any movement. “What... are you…” he pants, a flash of wariness in his eyes, one he regrets when met with your confusion.

“I've... read things,” you look up at him shyly, pausing.

Another time, a distinct memory; it had broken through to his conscious mind the moment he saw someone moving to pleasure him in that... in that way.

But this was you, it was you. His eyes are still wary, but his struggle is visible as you merely smile, and instead offer small, harmless kisses to his tightening abdomen. “I would never hurt you. Remember?”

Slowly, his grip on you loosens, his fingers hesitant and trembling.

“…Never,” you look down again, stroking him slowly. “Try to enjoy this…” your other hand finds his; your fingers weave together. “… for me?”

You then caress his thigh, his hip. His eyes close, and Adrian melts into the bed.

“… with me,” you lick him once, tongue swirling along the underside of his cock until a choked moan escapes him.

His claws spear forward as Adrian relinquishes control, drifting on your touch, the deep, maddening scent of your need causing his head to spin anew in a dangerous swoon. Your heat dazes him, and he bites down on his lip, feeling you so close, so trusting—

His hips thrust upward as you find a rhythm. His muscles feel like liquid, and his head falls back sharply against the sheets, a hand grasping the nape of your neck — this time not to stop you, but to urge you on. The heat, the suction hurls him down a spiral of blinding pleasure, shearing through sinew and tissue and his very core shivers as you suck faster, your tongue hot, enveloping silk around him; he’s lost in the soft moans and sounds vibrating deep in your throat. 

It tears him from the planes of current reality, and in a movement so fast you could not preempt it, he rises and tilts you over, layering the entire length of his body over yours.

One breath, then another; struggling against his chest. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be at this moment.

“No,” Adrian breathes. “You would never hurt me.” His eyes blaze red as he holds you to him. “But,” he follows with a dark smile, enjoying you squirming and struggling beneath him, “I cannot promise the same...”

You bite the inside of your cheek, lips swollen and gleaming as you lick at his taste in your mouth. You gasp when Adrian brings an arm beneath you, his grip crushing your hips to his. His cock twitches against your abdomen in the most gratifying manner.

Your smile mirrors his own. “Good.”

[mindshelter]

on writing prompts: how bout timkon (platonic or romantic or the muddy in between they're laying in) + ttk shenanigans?

(also just wanted to say i loooove your timkon fics, they're the few i reread every so often bc the characterization and the dynamic you write for them Hits. hope you're having a lovely day!)

Hands slide up Tim’s face, large thumbs stroking his cheekbones in slow swoops. Water is still beading at the tips of his hair, gravity willing it downwards. The fog is clearing, heat sinking towards tiled flooring, but the temptation to sleep blurs the edges of his consciousness.

“Don’t fall asleep here,” Kon says, clearly attempting to sound stern—but Tim can imagine Kon’s scrunched-up grin even as his eyelids flutter and fatigue reduces the world to little more than a muted smear.

“Mm,” says Tim, head tipping forward. He hasn’t been able to afford a good night’s rest for nearly two months, rationing sleep on rooftops as a teammate kept watch or in the quiet of a fusty motel room close to their target, nodding off as a computer program dug up files like scraping char off a pot. Espionage work is as gratifying as it is long and soul-destroyingly boring. Being attacked from behind with a knife was the biggest highlight of the assignment aside from finishing it and going home.

The delicate pressure begins at Kon’s fingertips, wicking the excess moisture where they touch Tim’s skin. They slide upwards, smoothing back the clumps of hair clinging to his forehead. Tim shivers when Kon reaches the nape of his neck, gliding over an island of scar tissue. The nerves there are either semi-healed or beyond repair, oversensitive at some spots, numb at others, all overlaid with leather.  

Kon had his palm laid over the small of his back and a smile against his mouth, the first time Tim let himself be touched like this. His hand had continued to meander before it gathered some courage to wander upwards. Unhurried and light, giving plenty of time for Tim to pull away. Tim had waited for the familiar feeling of insects crawling over him—but a hush had fallen inside of him.

Before he knows it, Kon is taking a step backwards. The distance is still short enough that Tim’s legs still flank either side of his hips.

“Is being able to sleep anywhere and everywhere part of spooky’s training regimen?” Kon asks, giving Tim’s hair another ruffle. “Alongside ‘how to hang upside down,’ intensive endurance, strength and martial arts training? Mastering the crabby grunt?”

Tim grunts.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Kon says, dragging out the first word. “I bet Bruce made you practice sleeping upside down, with all those bats in your cave. Stick with the theme, you know. My working theory is that it’s mandatory. Only after you’ve inhaled enough bat guano fumes to lose your mind—then you’re ripe and ready to hit the streets.”

“That’s just me, Conner,” Tim mumbles. And the repeated head trauma, probably.

Tim’s body lifts off the bathroom counter—and then the counter is upside down, as is everything else in the en suite. The bend of his knees dangle off of Kon’s outstretched arm, but it’s the TTK wound around him holding Tim steady. Tim yawns, but wraps his arms around himself in the best mimicry of the actual animal he can manage just to hear Kon laugh.

The things he does for love. “I am the night,” Tim says.

Kon chortles before flipping Tim back upright—Tim lands in his arms, and he rolls his eyes as Kon elbows the light switch and unceremoniously kicks the en suite’s door open to cross the short distance needed to reach Kon’s bed. It’s on the smaller side for two grown men, but Tim can’t say that he minds.

There are a few thin, faded strips of moonlight threading past the window curtains. Kon chose an East-facing room to get the most sun in the morning. The bedsprings squeak and whine as Kon drops their combined weight onto the mattress. TTK rearranges the duvet over their bodies while hands draw Tim in by the waist; Tim wriggles to nuzzle closer.

This kiss tastes of spearmint. Tim is sure Kon is listening for his pulse; he can hear it too, loud, steady, and just as well as the soft breaths Kon releases as Tim licks into his mouth. It’s perfect, even if Tim’s exhaustion is apparent in the way their teeth clack together.

Tim can’t see Kon properly in this darkness. But he traces Kon’s jaw, his browbone—indulges, luxuriates in the softness of Kon’s hair, the rise and fall of his chest, his golden heart—

“Missed you,” Kon murmurs once they break apart. Tim uses the last dredges of his energy to leave one more kiss between Kon’s eyebrows.

It’s so warm under the covers, his limbs tangled with Kon’s. Like they made their own hearth.

He never wants this to end.

Tim’s more than terrified that it might. (It will, part of him insists. He’ll come to his senses; it’s just a question of when.) Good things rarely last, and Kon won’t ignore the rot inside of Tim forever. 

In the meantime—he’s happy, pursuing the indomitable challenge of being enough, and is entirely too selfish to walk away from this.

Kon’s happy too, Tim thinks; sadness always paralyzes him. Tim becomes volatile—and so, so angry—but Kon prefers to vanish, making himself scarce and quiet if he could wish himself away.

He’s been singing, lately—off-note, but Tim never says a thing. It’s only as it started happening again that Tim had realized it used to be a regular habit of his. His laughter is loud again, booming down hallways, no longer fearful of taking up space.

It’s Kon’s turn to yawn. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Tim says. “You,” he amends.

__

thank you for the prompt, anon! i had fun with it, and hopefully it’s to your liking. i think i adhered to the ttk theme enough dsksls <3

i’m accepting fic prompts; details here!

[distortedkilling]

You want to know what Mahito wasn't in the mood for? All of this.

What a pain, what a pain. Not even in the fun way that made his blood rush. When he had blood, that is.

His nails bit into the skin of his hip, impatiently indenting the flesh between idle taps as he awaited Geto to decide whatever was to come next. The curse couldn't help but observe the way he behaved - so much the same and yet... a little different. Subtle almost. There was no need for deception but that wouldn't stop the curse user. That smile that could charm so many other humans was hardly doing the trick here. He knew, he had always known and even so accepted Geto to whatever degree a curse like him could. But acceptance could never be a replacement for trust. No matter how easy it was to get along with the other, there was always going to be more to it. It was clear to him here and now as Geto executed his authority over his recent tool.

When that familiar smile crossed his lips the entity remained unmoved beyond a slight tilt of his head. The screaming had stopped. The crying. There was a quietness between them and all that was filling it was the chain that bound the two of them together now. While Mahito's mixed expression remained there was no denying the prickly air that surrounded him as they engaged almost how they used to.

While the curse reflexively snatched the brain vase midair it didn't change the way he looked at Geto. In fact, his head tilted further as he tried to puzzle out just what all of this was about. Was the human just testing him to see if he could do something else?

"She's not really my type." Mahito jested dryly in return as he tossed the brain vase lazily up and down in his hand. He at least understood that joke enough to make it.

However, it was a few seconds later that made the curse stop entirely. Gripping the vase tightly he looked at Geto with clarity, "Wait, that implies I'd be out here long enough to play with her?!" He eyed the other as if seeking confirmation, yet it wasn't one he had enough patience to wait for. The incentive to not go back into that orb was plenty enough but the bonus of having a new toy was also quite desirable, in truth.

Moving the organic vase between both hands he let out a short exhale as he focused his technique. It was just like dealing with the moldy sorcerer, right? When he used his technique to repair that man's body before killing him. Those were the days, Mahito sighed a little at the thought before shaking it free from his head to focus. So he just had to backtrack, yeah? No. This was different. Before his Idle Transfiguration simply destroyed the Heavenly Restriction and healed the body of that sorcerer. This was a transfigured human and there was only one way this went.

The soul he had been so careful with trembled in his grasp, he could feel the agony radiating in waves from her as he molded flesh and returned her shape. One may look at what he was doing and think, he's doing it. Unfortunately, reversing transfigured humans was an impossible task thing normally due to the process of it all. If the trauma the soul endured could be mitigated (gross, why would he??) then it would have been so much easier. Unfortunately, humans were fragile with this sort of thing. Which was what he liked about his technique so much.

The result of what Mahito had ended up with was... certainly something. She could just barely stand there on her own. Honestly, she looked more like you asked the curse to draw this woman from memory with crayons. Even her clothes he replicated and graphed to her flesh weren't quite right. Quietly the woman stood there weeping, lips trembling as her mouth tried to move. Her eyes turned towards Geto, shaking in their sockets as she experienced unimaginable agony. Broken words exited her partially opened mouth, accompanied by pained moans as she begged for death. If the stitched face curse did this to her, maybe she'd be granted mercy from her original captor?

However, Mahito wasn't quite done. She may look like a fucking mess but the curse touched her shoulder, forcing his will upon her. He may be Geto's puppet right now but she was his in return and that felt sublime for the moment. Her body shook violently before her arms jerked, an unpleasant cracking coming from one as her attention directed away from the curse user to look at nothing in particular. As busted as her body was the cursed energy and her pained soul were intact enough for him to force a moment's worth of her cursed technique. It began activating under his touch before he took his hand off her to watch as she used it... before promptly collapsing before it could actually be executed.

Displeasure and disappointment crossed Mahito's face before he groaned; his hands dragging over his face and into his hair before promptly dropping to dangle at his sides. "I was so close~!" He lamented, crouching down to lift her head up a little by her hair.

Yeah. Definitely dead. Weakling.

He was even careful with her to preserve her stupid brain and technique! Quietly Mahito fumed to himself a moment, having grown a little more invested in experimenting than he initially had been when given this incentive. It was progress, in all honesty, but knowing his buddy here it likely wouldn't count. "I don't suppose you have another sorcerer around?" He inquired, lifting his head to peer over to Geto.

In between each snap of the pixels on the screen, his gaze darts in the curse's direction — it's a subtle thing, but the sorcerer cares little to disguise how closely he's watching the other's movements as of late. Because it won't change much. If anything, it might even coax Mahito to be a good subject in exchange for his attention. For that attention was now a currency to buy the curse's freedom; and his companion would be wise to grasp onto that concept before Kenjaku's capricious interest dissipates.

He notes the ways in which Mahito feels himself come back to life, the subtle twitch to his limbs after they have manifested. Logically, the longer he stays out the more comfortable in his own individuality he should grow. As Suguru Geto's curse manipulation did not come with an inner domain but a maximum technique instead, there's no telling what the experience within its mindscape is like for the absorbed spirits. And here Kenjaku had been thinking, it was naught but an accumulation of energy honed into different techniques. No, they do retain the traits they have formed before their capture! He can tell, when the pillow flies his way!

And it's repelled, with a nonchalant swat of the sorcerer's hand. Not because he caught it, but rather, because a lesser dolphin-like spirit manifested to jump in front of him the last second and take the blow in his stead.

❝ I'm not really in the mood for that right now. ❞ They declare absent-mindedly, as another celebratory toot from the phone heralds the stage cleared. How many levels does this game even have? It feels endless and the person beneath him in the scoreboard is still stuck on triple digits. At another time, or perhaps later, when some things have clicked into place, they might take Mahito up on that offer. If they're not too busy stretching him thin until the very threads weaving his essence together are revealed to them.

The woman's screech, for as blaring as it was, soon shatters into a strained grunt that, after hanging out with the patchwork curse for some time, has become all too familiar. It sounds exactly what Kenjaku expected it to sound like ( someone being strained like a used wet rug ) and then there's naught but quiet sniffling as Mahito tosses the human-vase over and it merely drops into the sorcerer's lap.

He sits up with a small, thoughtful hum, lifting the object that had become of her up into the room's light. There was a brain — and it was still active. Which meant either Mahito had been inefficient in removing the technique ( but still forbade the shaman from using it, as her soul had been altered ) or he had frozen her in a state of life in spite of the technique being removed, where normally she should have died on the spot afterwards. A squeeze of the sorcerer's fingers into its fleshy exterior attested to such - when it elicited a small, pained grunt as a response. Geto's eyes narrowed over the stem peaking out; the remnants of her nervous system.

He knows for a fact that he has never had the conversation about parts of the human brain with Mahito -- even though the latter has had ample access to books, throughout their time together, his interests have historically been geared towards philosophy and human history rather than anatomy. Furthermore, Mahito's thought process would impair him from removing the prefrontal cortext with surgical precision, as he considers the soul to be a separate thing that precedes the body. Ergo, if Mahito's use of his own technique once in captivity is dependent on his own perception of the commands, this woman here should still be able to utilize her technique, given the physical shape to do so.

❝ You could have applied yourself to a gilded handle, I believe. ❞ He jests, violet eyes meeting mismatched ones with a saccharine smile that was almost placating the spirit. And then he turns around sharply, slipping the phone back in his pocket and thrusting the vase in the other's direction before hunching over, elbows resting atop his knees in an expectant fashion. ❝ If you turn her back and she can still use her technique, you can keep her. ❞ An incentive presents itself, as part of his behavioral conditioning.

[witch-of-ren]

Reverse Baptism Ritual

The act of reversing a baptism or undoing a baptism should be a personal experience and one that is deeply connected to you. This allows for personalization and changes to make it your own. Breaking the ties and promises to the Abrahamic God may feel draining or tiring by the end. This is normal and recovery shouldn’t take too long. A good night of sleep should help.

As for materials you may need, I include the use of candles, herbs, and crystals. My instructions will list all but you can skip steps or ignore parts that you choose not to do or can’t do. Again, don’t be afraid to personalize this ritual. It should be tailored to each individual who chooses to do this.

If you don’t have or can’t get the physical herb or flower, an oil of it will work just fine as a substitute. I also have multiple options for the same uses and intentions.

HERBS:

Basil - Protection and Exorcism (Meant to help break the ties and remove residual energy)

Chamomile - Purification (Cleanse the body and spirit)

Cinnamon - Power (Give an extra kick to the other herbs)

Eucalyptus - Healing (Any trauma or harm the spirit/body is hanging onto will begin to heal)

Lotus - Protection, Lock-Opening (I mean that as in unlocking the oath to break it)

Peppermint - Purification and Healing 

Rosemary - Healing, Protection, Exorcism, and Purification (A good catch-all)

Turnip - Ending Relationships (Optional)

CANDLES:

White - Cleansing and Drawing in Light (Bonus points if it’s a sage candle)

Black - Protection and Removing the Negative (Will also break a harmful relationship)

Blue - Healing (Emotional and physical)

Purple - Spiritual Amplifier

Red - Power (Ritual power amplifier - bonus points for dragon’s blood)

CRYSTALS:

Obsidian - Letting Go, Process Emotions/Experiences

Jasper - Empower Spirit, Support through Stress

Moonstone - New Beginnings

Aquamarine - Healing, Moving On, Inner Strength

Clear Quartz - Healing, Cleansing

Smoky Quartz - Clarity, Emotional Balance

PREPARING FOR THE RITUAL

Preparation is probably one of the most important steps. It’ll make or break the difficulty you have during the actual ritual.

Where are you planning to do it? How long do you think you’ll need?

I recommend leaving at least 30-45 minutes to do the full ritual and let it sink in. I also recommend doing this in a bathtub, but other places where you can have a basin of water can work.

Are there clothes you’d like to wear? Any jewelry?

If you’re using herbs, you can either place them in a dish or pouch, or you can sprinkle them into the water. It’s up to you. You don’t have to use a lot for the effect it needs. The intention just needs to be there.

If you’re using candles, figure out where you want to place them and if you can place them surrounding your bathtub. When I use these specific candles, I usually put my Black one on the left side near my feet, my White on the left near my head, the Purple near my feet on the right side, and the Blue near my middle on the right side (or wherever it sits without fear of falling). The Red candle doesn’t need a specific location. Its presence will automatically do what it’s supposed to.

If there’s a god/goddess you would like to involve, light a candle for them and verbally invite them to assist and lend their energy if they choose. This isn’t necessary at all to do. 

THE RITUAL

Make sure all of your materials and items are ready. This would be all your herbs, candles, crystals, and any other items you wish to use. Bring them to your location.

If you choose to cleanse your space, this would be the time to do it. I don’t feel it’s necessary for this, but it’s a personal preference.

Run the water at your preferred temperature. Once the drain is closed and the water is partially filled, add your herbs. Sprinkling them in, setting the dish nearby, or putting the pouch in the water. Be sure you know how you’re going to clean up the herbs if you’re sprinkling them in. And make certain it isn’t going to irritate your skin.

Once the tub is filled, turn the water off and place the candles in their positions. Light the White candle first, followed by the Black one. The order of color after this doesn’t matter. Lighting the White candle first allows the cleansing of the space before placing the protective barrier of the Black candle. 

If there’s a deity of your choosing that you wish to invite to bear witness or partake, this would be the perfect moment to call upon them and light their candle.

If using crystals, this is also the time to place those in your desired positions. Be certain they aren’t water-soluble.

 Step into the bath and sit down. Take a series of deep breaths and allow yourself to relax. This is where the true ritual begins.

OPTIONAL: If you’d like to draw a sigil on your chest using the water, I’ve provided one below. (Intention/Meaning: My Bond is Broken)

Start at the bottom left, trace part of the rectangle, backtrack, then trace the slanted line.

OPTIONAL: Recite the short incantation below to set your intention. (Two versions: One for those baptized when they couldn’t decide and one for those that chose to but now want to break that.)

An oath I was given without permission, a bond that will now break. God, Father of Heaven, what ties me to you shall be no more and the soul given to you is mine and mine alone. This is my will and I now let go. My bond is broken, and the tether has been released. 

An oath I took once in a time when I chose to follow you. God, Father of Heaven, my ties to you shall be no more and the soul I promised to you is now mine and mine alone. This is my will and I now let go. Our bond is broken, and the tether has been released.

Two Options for this next step:

Submerge yourself entirely beneath the water a total of NINE times. Angel numbers signify this as the number of releasing and breaking. A new chapter is made.

Submerge yourself entirely beneath the water a total of THREE times for NINE seconds each.

Once you’ve completed the Self-Baptism portion, take the time to relax and let the ritual sink in. You can sit until the water starts to become cold or you can get out when you feel you’re ready. I do recommend you sit for a few minutes at the very least.

Before fully getting out, thank the candles and blow them out. Clean any loose herbs out of the water before pulling the drain. Dry yourself off and clean up the rest of your items.

I hope this helps at least one person in their journey.

~ Witch of Ren