#palliate
Text
AGGRAVATE #aggravate #synonym #ingles #exasperate #provoke #wound #heighten #intensify #antonym #soothe #conciliate #assuage #diminish #palliate #portugues #agravar #exasperar #provocar #ferir #intensificar #intensificar #irritar
AGGRAVATE #aggravate #synonym #ingles #exasperate #provoke #wound #heighten #intensify #antonym #soothe #conciliate #assuage #diminish #palliate #portugues #agravar #exasperar #provocar #ferir #intensificar #intensificar #irritar
Inglês: Aggravate
Synonyms
Exasperate, provoke, wound, heighten, intensify, irritate, make worse, increase, enhance embitter, magnify.
Antonyms
Soothe, conciliate, assuage, diminish, palliate, neutralize, soften, lessen, alleviate, attenuate, mitigate.
Português: Agravar
Exasperar, provocar, ferir, intensificar, intensificar, irritar, piorar, aumentar, aumentar amargurado, ampliar
Thank you for…
View On WordPress
#aggravate#alleviate#antonym#assuage#attenuate#conciliate#Diminish#embitter#Enhance#exasperate#heighten#Increase#intensify#irritate#lessen#magnify#make#mitigate#neutralize#palliate#provoke#soften#Soothe#synonym#worse#wound
0 notes
Text
Some concept/idea art for my PALLIATE au🤸♀️💥
There's probably a lot of Leo robot aus out there but like all of them this one's a bit different😋
Uhm these are SUPER SUPER SUPER OLD😰
#rise leo#rottmnt leo#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt au#doodle#digital art#drawing#sketch#ibispaintx#omg aaaaa#my art#PALLIATE au
126 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Palliation Accord
Artist: William Simpson
TCG Player Link
Scryfall Link
EDHREC Link
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a palliative care nurse sometimes I wonder if there is a celestial tally of good and evil and if all of the people I have helped pass on would classify me as good or evil.
Like you know people who do those prompts of like a universe with body count tally over your head, would the people I have helped pass on, count in a body count? Would people think me a serial killer for simply doing my job and making the end of someone's life as comfortable as possible?
#palliative care#nurse#late night ramblings#late night thoughts#end of life care#palliation#existential thoughts
0 notes
Note
ok hear me out toji is always rough and somehow mean when you fuck, but something happens to you (you can decide what) and he turns really soft and gentle for one night. just one.
❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji being soft with you for once
warnings. fem! reader, soft dom toji, praise, missionary, talking you through it, mdni.
being in bed with toji, he’s usually almost always rough and degrading. it’s something he’s mostly used to, however there’d be a specific time where he’d have to change things up . . . just for you.
he’d notice something’s wrong the minute he’s about to align himself again. you’re awfully quiet underneath him as you awaited and he’s well aware of how you keep avoiding his stoic gaze. “hm,” he’d ponder aloud with a mere natural pout. toji grabs ahold of your chin before softly stroking it with his thumb, making you stare right into his green curious irises. “something’s wrong. talk to me, babygirl.”
“nothing’s wrong, you can finish—”
“something’s wrong,” he repeats, his voice is a bit more stern yet it’s still gentle. he slows down and brings a thumb towards your cheek to lightly stroke it. “you’re avoiding eye contact,” he points out, still inside you yet he brings his hips to an abrupt pause. toji’s panting yet he takes a moment to breathe. “you can talk to me, y’know.”
you briefly meet his dark pupils before letting off a low exhale. “i . . had a bad day,” and then as he’s hovering over your body, you slowly drag out your final breathy words in a sheepish, “can you—can you hold my hand?”
“aw,” he teases, grabbing your hand before intertwining his thick stubby fingers with yours. his touch was so safe, so warm, so gentle. his thumb strokes against the back of your hand before he holds onto your hip with another. “want a head pat too, sweetheart?”
“s-shut up,” you moan, feeling the tip of his dick prof against your entrance. he wasn’t exactly moving but you still felt him. your ankle runs against toji’s back and he’s so close to you that you could smell the strong aroma of alcohol and mint linger on his breath. toji’s now softened gaze never leaves you and his kittenish eyes ease up soothingly. “just go slow ‘n hold my hand, toji.”
“so sensitive today,” he purrs, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead. it was something about his voice—the way he spoke to you currently, it was just so smooth. his eyes that were known to always be cruel and intimidating palliate just at the sight of you— the sight of his pretty girl underneath him, asking for a simple request to hold her hand. “. . mwah,” and the moment his lips brush against your skin, you let off a soft whine. “i’ll go niiice ‘n slow for you, yeah.”
once he finally picks up his pace again, he’s so gentle with you. the grip on your hand tightens a bit and you moan.
you’re always used to toji being so rough in bed, manhandling you and all—alas, you never exactly minded of course, but a change of pace like this was strikingly nice.
his stumpy fingers strum against yours before you feel his hips gradually move again. “t-toooji,” you whine out, watching as he kisses near your neck. so benign, so tender. toji was always familiar with every inch of your body. he knew the layout of your body as if it was an apartment. he always knew where to go, your weakest and most sensitive spots— forever engraved into his mind. with your eyes starting to roll back, you squeal out a shaky, “i l-love you.”
“cock drunk already?” he fake pouts, a smile curling against his lips before he slowly starts to thrust into you. the moans that left your mouth were incredibly melodic, a mere harmony he was listening to. toji couldn’t help but grin at your sweet words of whimpers of how much you loved him, losing yourself completely on his cock. “but i love you more, princess,” and he feels your ankle scrape further down his tense back muscles. a rigorous surge of wind forcefully plucks from your lungs and you struggle to suppress your own whines. so good, so thick. toji squeezes your hand tightly, giving your forehead another chaste kiss. “how’s it feel? ‘s slow enough for you, baby?”
“good, y—yes, ‘toj,” you whimper, both hands throwing around his broad neck, over his high rising shoulders. he was merely nude, only wearing a white tee to follow. the chain that was wrapped around his neck dangles against your face every so often and you mewl out a sweet desperate sob for more. “touch me more toji, p-please. touch me.”
he snickers. “oh. am i not touchin’ you?”
you pout and he’s enjoying your brief irritation. whenever you were getting frustrated—you always had such cute expressions, especially when your lip frowns up or your eyebrows twitch to show your sheer vex. with a sigh, you grumble, “kiss me, toji. i want a kiss.”
“you . . want a kiss?” he softly coos, his voice was as smooth as silk. so sweet, deliciously candied with each word he pronounces at you. the rasp underneath his tone only made you throb for an even longer time. with an eyebrow raise, toji accelerates his hips before he feels your gummy walls stretch out perfectly. you were so good for him, so fucking good. his cock rummages inside of you to where your eyes were merely reaching the sockets. until all you saw was nothing but black, an entire void of straight nothingness. as your eyes remain stuck back into the very depths of your cranium, he’s always loved looking at your dramatic expressions—especially whenever he was on top of you. “say please. ‘m bein’ soft for right now but don’t forget those manners i taught ya, sweetheart.”
you sigh again and he slyly smiles at your sheer frustration.
“. . pleaseee,” you whine out, dragging your nails down his back. by now, you were sure his back was coated with a few marks from your pointed fingertips. the way your bottom lip pokes out once you pout yet again was so adorable. “kiss me toji, please.”
“anything for the pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soft voice, bringing a rough hand to cup the right side of your face. his pace was just so tantalizingly slow, emitting out all types of whiney moans from your lips. toji leans in and the moment his lips press against yours, you whimper. he’s stuffing you full of inches in the meantime — feeling the way your walls adjust and constrict around him. as both lips are moving in rhythmic tavern, you legs squeeze around his slim jerking waist.
toji’s always been fond of your taste, so glacé. his tongue runs against your bottom lip, tasting your sweet lip gloss before he grunts into your mouth.
thick heavy balls slowly pound into you and his pace was so salaciously relentless that it welts out all kinds of squelches directly from your cunt.
“f-fuuck,” he groans, each pivot he creates only grows more rapid and sloppy. he’s so thorough, the angle makes you whimper into his mouth before you compress around his length tighter. he’s so close up to you, the warmth of his body colliding up against yours makes you throb more. toji’s speaking in between kisses — a string of spit departs each time he leaves, swiping his tongue against your lip before after about a nth amount of kisses later, he finally breaks away. “aw. did i love you too hard, princess? you look a little out of breath.”
“s—shut up,” you moan, clinging onto his back even tighter. he was right though, your lungs were strained and you were panting heavily, heaving. the wind gets yanked out of your throat before you slump back against the bed. “gonna c-cum, toji. gonna cum,” and then you meet his softly coy gaze— he returns the eye contact before you see a bit of tenderness in his dark irises. “please, please let me cum, ‘toj. pleaseee.”
the smile against toji’s lips further— you’re so cute, the way you were chasing your current orgasm. it felt like a wave, an abrupt wave that was about to collide. your cunt holds him hostage before he leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose.
“mwahhh,” he purrs softly, deepening his hits against you before your thighs end up aching underneath near the very undersides. he’s so deep that your jaw dangles open. hot breathy puffs of air leave past your lips before he strokes your cheek. “give it to me, baby. c’mon, i got you.”
as he’s talking in such a smoothly polished tone, his words send a plethora of butterflies inside of your stomach.
toji stares at you in such a lovingly way— it last for at least six seconds, he looks like he’s about to say something even further before he stops himself. “aw. don’t space out on me now, gorgeous,” and he strokes your cheek. “squeeze my hand, girl.”
“hngh c-cumming,” you whimper, feeling your stomach seize a few times before you finally climax. it comes at such a speed that you’re taken aback. your own clammy hand grips against his whilst a thumb strokes against his knuckles before he smiles. you’re shaking, convulsing and his cock’s still buried into you from the very hilt. toji leans in, his broad chest pressing against yours before he licks near your neck. you moan, feeling your collarbone start to dampen up from his wet tongue— toji chuckles, watching you spasm out on his length before he stops his hips again. “f-fuck.”
“. . . so cute,” he susurrates, and his deep raspy voice was a mere whisper. he spoke in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes before picking up your hand to kiss it. “do you feel a little better?”
“a— a little,” you inhale a sharp breath, his weight just idly hovering over your hot-tempered body. everything felt so good, it was a reoccurring ring in your ears that always came whenever you were tweaking out on his dick— he’s always loved the twitch your lips make, failing to get your words out whenever you came. in rushed words, you whine out a sweet, “t-thank you toji, thank you,” and he’s taken by surprise once you pull him into nothing more than a sweet hug. “love you.”
it takes him a good minute to reply, he has a playful pout on his lips as he’s still inside—you feel his tip mash against your sweet spot, causing you to whimper against his ear before he kisses the sensitive outer shell of your earlobe.
“oh but i love you more, babygirl,” and you feel him gradually pull out. you frown at the sudden feeling of being empty before he hums at your expression. “now, let’s get some sleep. i’ll even sing you a song, just for you.”
#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x reader smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut#anime smut#female reader#cw sex mention
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Le doy por el culo durisimo a mi tia anabel
Cute teen redhead Lilyan Red doing a hot striptease live on the webcam
Taffy Tales Part 27 Christmas Special She Wanted Cook By LoveSkySan69
Cute BBW cheating on boyfriend with BBC !!!
Cute Daughters Fucked By Their Step Daddy on Sleepover
Australian twinks speedos and screaming crying gay porn fuck machine
Sexy brunette lady has dick shoved in her twat while Brooke Hunter watches
Awesome fuck with real indian mom in red light hindi audio
TUSHY Brett Rossi Comes Back For Some More Intense Anal
XYZ FRIEND:TU CHEEZ BADI MAST MAST INDIAN DOGGY STYLE
#heartpea#empaler#flanerie#ricochet#Lyburn#ebbed#weety#avys#palliations#Geoprumnon#Ganiats#Izyum#holloas#tapemaking#muchwhat#zincolysis#sublimating#overextend#loper#arteriectasis
0 notes
Text
#Sibia Medical Centre is the best heart hospital for No Surgery cardiac care alternative treatments for Chest pain#angina#Coronary Artery Disease (CAD)#heart attack patients#Diabetes#Blood pressure#Leg Pain#Parkinson's#Cerebral ischemia unfit for angiography#angioplasty stents & heart bypass surgery (CABG)#to avoid them and for post-covid cardio-pulmonary rehabilitation with CCG heart flow mapping#EECP Natural Bypass#Chelation Therapy (ACT) (BCA)#ESMR Cardiac Shockwave Angiogenesis#Also treat Kidney stone#Knee pain#cancer tumor palliation#detoxification#immunity#antiaging#Spinal correction for backache#cervical spondylosis#sciatica#lose weight#remove stubborn fat#lose inches#and look smart with Zerona#IPL Laser for unwanted hair#wrinkles#pigmentation
0 notes
Text
katsuki wakes you up from your midday nap with his yelling.
it isn't exactly a rude awakening - you just turn with the sudden ruckus coming from outside your bedroom - but it's enough to cause you the tiniest bit of alarm, even if being together at home is the safest place you can imagine on this earth.
it's saturday evening and he thankfully will not be gone for patrol, so you could afford the extra time to sleep off a worsening migraine. you shift out of your bed, satisfied that a combination of ibuprofen and extra z's have done their work, and make your way out towards the source of the fuss. as you get closer, you're happy to know that it's nothing serious - rather katsuki is simply speaking at loud volume into his phone, presumably irritated, but not devastated by something.
he doesn't hear you coming as light as your footsteps are, and you stand at the doorway to observe him.
"what the FUCK do you mean 'there's nothing you can do'?! i spent hours making these arrangements and you expect me to just accept a gift card like my anniversary is replaceable?!"
you blink, suppressing a yawn still, and watch him. he's agitated and you're pretty sure he's justified, although it probably isn't great for him to yell so much, even if your ears are somewhat attuned to it given your many years together. it's not like when you met him he was exactly the stoic and silent type at all times, although he could be if he wanted to.
but why would you want him to be any different than himself?
you step forward after a few more moments of him hunching over, gritting his teeth as he hears whatever palliating excuses the customer service has on the other end, then press a hand to his shoulder. he stiffens - in fact, he almost pales at your touch and his voice drops nearly to half the number of decibels, a barely audible whisper. reassessing his anger, he nods to you, then to the agent he cannot see, and clears his throat.
"i'll be a little more uh..." he glances at you, and you're smiling at him, but you're giving him the look that pleads him to be nice, and he sighs, "judicious about my willingness to do business with you in the future, but i'll accept a gift card. for now."
with that, the conversation ends. katsuki looks red for a different reason, the gentle sting of embarrassment in his cheeks. you decide not to rub it in, and find a way to settle into his lap.
"what's going on, baby?" you ask. he makes a sound of displeasure, then adjusts your position balanced atop his knee, running a hand through his hair. he then looks at you again, appraising your own emotional state before deciding to change the topic. after all, it's probably best you don't know why he lost his temper.
"did you nap well?" he asks first, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.
"not with you hollering," you tease as he lets his teeth graze gently on the skin of your collarbone. he looks up and frowns.
"was it that bad?" his voice is quieter now, lower. you tilt your head.
"you yell all the time. it's fine, i'm used to it. partially deaf at this point."
he frowns again, then mutters a "sorry."
your hand cups his chin. that one word is spoken too softly.
"hey, i'm not made of glass. speak up." you say, squeezing. he smiles, circling his own hand on your wrist before pulling it towards him to kiss the underside.
"sorry, princess!" he says louder, and you giggle, turning your head.
"what? can't hear you?"
he pulls you in and yells directly in your ear, and you scream, and he holds, both of you laughing together. once the two of you calm down, he sighs and leans back into the couch, making sure to take you with him so that you're resting on his chest.
he exhales deep and you wait, knowing he has more to say.
"you know," he starts, tracing circles into your palm, "i had an ex-" you bristle for a moment, and he grins at you, then kisses your forehead, "that thought i was too loud."
"loud, yes. too loud? i'm not sure," you reply.
he shrugs. "she would bristle any time she heard me talking. i would never yell at her, but i guess i scared her in some way just by the tone of my voice."
"mm." part of you wonder what they expected; he's always lived boisterously, with no pretense otherwise, but you keep mum.
"so i felt like i couldn't really be myself around them. obviously not the way i can be with you."
katsuki looks away from you for a moment and in space as though he is thinking, and then soon time is up, and his focus shifts back to you, giving you a cheeky grin.
"thanks for putting up with me," he says. again his voice is soft and quiet, because he addresses you with care, not because you've demanded him to adjust for you, but because he wants to.
you peck his nose. "well, when i go deaf in both ears, i'll reconsider."
he rolls his eyes playfully, and you pull his ear and yell, "i love you!"
he threatens to throw you off of him again, and you playfight until you're both rested on the couch, content in each other's arms.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
“how was your day, ed?” = stede wants to listen to how ed’s day was
“how was your day, edward?” = stede feels insecure about being Too Much and is trying to palliate all that by centering ed in the conversation
“how was your day, sweetheart?” = stede wants to listen to how ed’s day was but not before kissing him silly first
“how was your day, darling?” = stede is anxious about something unrelated and knows listening to how ed’s day was will make him feel better
“how was your day, my darling?” = stede has just noticed with alarm that ed’s eyes are suspiciously red and puffy
“how was your day, angel?” = rhetorical question; ed is home with a bad cold and stede has been gone for less than an hour
“how was your day, beloved?” = stede already knows the answer because they spent the whole time sexting
207 notes
·
View notes
Text
MINCE #mince #synonym #ingles #attenuate #comminute #palliate #extenuate #antonym #exaggerate #amplify #magnify #portugues #picar #atenuado #comminuto #paliato #extenuar
MINCE #mince #synonym #ingles #attenuate #comminute #palliate #extenuate #antonym #exaggerate #amplify #magnify #portugues #picar #atenuado #comminuto #paliato #extenuar
Inglês: Mince
Synonyms
Attenuate, comminute, palliate, extenuate.
Antonyms
Exaggerate, amplify, magnify.
Português: Picar
Atenuado, comminuto, paliato, extenuar
Thank you for visiting us! Obrigado pela visita!
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
Screws for brain leo yay
(Tremendously old)
i have so much old stuff I need to uploud💔
#Rottmnt#PALLIATE AU#save rise of the tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#art#doodle#drawing#my art#my au#au#colors#shapes#school sucks#robot#digital art#tmnt#rise leo
24 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Palliation Accord
Artist: William Simpson
TCG Player Link
Scryfall Link
EDHREC Link
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
The missing Arthurian knight - rediscovered in 2019
Well the title is a slight lie - the missing knight wasn't rediscovered in 2019, it was earlier than that, but he didn't became public until 2019.
So what's this "missing knight" about? Well as the title says. There was a knight part of the Arthurian myth, and he had been missing ever since the Middle-Ages, and he was only recently rediscovered.
Or rather, to be exact - there was an Arthurian novel centered around a knight that existed and was a famous and well-known part of the Arthurian literature in the Middle-Ages, but that completely disappeared, and was forgotten by culture (as much popular culture as the scholarly one). Until very recently.
This rediscovered novel has been a hot topic of all Arthuriana fans in Europe for a few years now - and yet I do not see much talk about this onto this website, despite Tumblr being a big place for Arthurian fans?
So I will correct this by doing a series of posts about the subject. And this post will be the first one, the introduction post presenting to you "Ségurant, le chevalier au dragon" ; "Segurant, the knight of the dragon". A French medieval novel part of the Arthurian literature (hence the "chevalier au X" title structure - like Lancelot, the knight of the cart or Yvain the knight of the lion from Chrétien de Troyes), the reason this story was forgotten by all medievalist and literary scholars is - long story short - because it never existed in any full manuscript (at least none that survived to this day). It was a complete story yes, with even variations apparently, but that was cut into pieces and fragments inserted into various other manuscripts and texts (most notably various "Merlin's Prophecies").
The novel and the Knight of the Dragon were rediscovered through the work of Emanuele Arioli, who rediscovered a fragment of the story while looking at an old manuscript of a Merlin Prophecies, and then went on the hunt for the other fragments and pieces scattered around Europe, until he finally could compile the full story, that he then published in 2019, at the Belles Lettres publishing house, in 2019.
Arioli reconstructed the text, and translated it in both modern French and Italian for scholarly and professional editions (aka Honoré Champion in France, a reference for universities)...
... But also for a more "all public, found in all libraries" edition - the famous 2019 edition at Les Belles Lettres.
And not only that, but he also participated to both a comic book adaptation with Emiliano Tanzillo...
... and an adaptation as an illustrated children novel!
Finally, just a few weeks, the Franco-German channel Arte released a documentary about the reconstitution and content of this missing novel called "Le Chevalier au dragon: Le roman disparu de la Table Ronde". (The Knight of the Dragon - The missing novel of the Round Table). The full documentary is on Youtube in French for those that speak the language, here. And in German here for those who speak German.
Unfortunately there is no English version of the documentary that I know of, nor any English publications of the actual text - just French and Italian. But hey, I'll try to palliate to that by doing some English-speaking posts about this whole business!
#ségurant#segurant#the knight of the dragon#le chevalier au dragon#arthuriana#arthurian myth#arthurian literature#arthurian novel#discoveries#medieval literature#arthurian legend#arthurian knights#found media#lost media#that people didn't even know was lost
321 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carolee Schneemann - Palliation II
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part
Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.
Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.
In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.
Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?
Word Count: 6.1k
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn
Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]
Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.
If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know
Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]
“I want… more,” Astarion concludes, confident and sure. “I want to be us again.”
Us. I do like the sound of that.
“I don’t know, Astarion…” You pull your knees to your chest. You want nothing more than to be his as you should have been this entire time, but what does more even mean to him?
“Why? What’s stopping us?” His expression is closed and hardened. His intonation is steady but otherwise void of emotion, “You love me, yes?”
You sigh, drop your head to your knees and try to dispose of the urge to cry. You’re scared that if you deny him while you’re here, and it upsets him…. Well, that spells the end for you. There is nowhere to hide from the sun here except perhaps the bottom of the lake. You stare blankly at the serene rayless deep and miss the consoling palliation of nothingness, hushed as the grave.
“Yes, I love you.” Your eyes don’t leave the water, reflecting the glimmer of the sky like a mirror, unable to look into his eyes for fear of losing your rational thought and jumping into his arms. “That’s not the problem.”
“Tell me the problem, and I will remedy it.” Astarion appeals insistently. His fingers brush down your arm as softly as a summer evening breeze. “Whatever you desire, I will make it yours.”
Good Gods, you need to breathe. Your chest is tight. It expands with a whistle as you inhale a sizeable breath, defying the rigour that has set into your lungs. The sun heats your skin, as pale as a pearl, yet your body trembles as if cold. You’re on the verge of falling to pieces, but you cannot allow yourself such weakness. You must be as emotionless as a stone and twice as hard.
You meet his gaze and reach out to the connection you share with him. You cannot read his emotions. He is too poised and practiced, but you can feel them if only he will allow it.
Astarion’s eyes widen slightly at the request, “No,” he shakes his head. “Not right now.”
“Why is that?” You cock your head at him with a frown, “What are you hiding?”
“No, darling. It is for you that I will not do this here. I can hear your thoughts, remember? Last time you called me the devil,” he chuckles with a smug smirk. “That would hardly upset me, but if you do think something untoward, I do not want to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no place to hide should you need to. Just tell me what is troubling you.”
It sounds like a very convenient excuse for him to keep things from me.
“Can we not just wait and have this conversation at the manor then? Will you open the bond there?”
Astarion sighs, combing fingers through his damp hair, “Yes, I suppose we could. Is it because of my- “
“No, it has nothing to do with your condition.” You cut him off, “It’s... I will be plain. I have accepted that you cannot love me, but that is what I desire. I will not be your dutiful consort, Astarion. I want something real.”
“What you’re looking to hear,” he glances away, almost sheepish. It would be winsome and nostalgic, this glimpse of his past self, if you were not worried that it’s a clever ruse, a tactical manipulation to appease your doubts. “I have said it before, you know.”
“And therein lies the problem,” you wince at the memory - “I love you. That’s what you want to hear. Isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for.” You brush your expression with bedrock, “You say it because you think it’s what I want to hear.”
“No,” he protests with a twisted mouth. “I meant every word.”
“Then say it, Astarion,” you urge, praying he will. Gods, it’s what you’ve longed to hear. There’s a desolate part of you that would savour it, even if it is just a beautiful lie, and you hate yourself for being so broken, “Open the bond and say it.”
“I…I-” he trails off with a rasp and grimaces. His lips smack together, but no sound emerges from his mouth. It’s as if the words are lodged in this throat. He shakes his head with a low, pained groan. “Perhaps you are right. This is a conversation better had at home.”
He won’t say it.
Pieces fall from your heart like petals off a dead flower.
The sun is dipping below the horizon as the mare moves under you in a fluid canter with Astarion’s black gelding leading. Your hips roll steadily with the pace, and you barely perceive when Astarion pushes his gelding into a gallop. Your mind spins with questions, concerns, doubts and desires you dare not act on. His words still ricochet around your mind as quickly as the booming of the horses’ hoofs pounding the earth.
“I want to be us again.”
“I have said it before.”
“I meant every word.”
A tear rolls down your cheek as you watch him from behind. Nothing is more torturous than having everything you want laid at your feet, only to force yourself to walk away. You wipe the tear off your cheek and push away the others welled in your eyes, fluttering on your lashes like dew on blades of grass.
Astarion reels his gelding around on its haunches, shifts into mist and crashes into you abruptly, throwing you out of the saddle and to the ground harshly on your stomach. The horses scatter with bucks and rears, squealing and frightened. You try to push yourself up to your feet, but Astarion presses his chest down hard on your back, sinking you into the tall grass.
Reacting instinctively, you rival his dominance as dread mauls you, “Astari-“
“Shut up,” his hand covers your mouth, muffling you.
You crane your neck, trying to get a view of his eyes. If he’s gone, that’s a surefire way to tell. Astarion studies the trees around you with an acute glare. His heart thuds so hard in his chest that you can feel it against your spine. He looks like a hunter stalking its prey, but otherwise, his eyes are the vivid crimson of his and not the matte frost you expected.
He looks down, removes his hand from your mouth and leans low, bringing his lips beside your ear, “When I give the order, you run back to the manor. You do not stop for anything or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
“I don’t understand,” you keep your voice as low as his. “What’s wrong?”
“Do as I ask, and do not challenge me on this,” he commands assertively.
His expression is grim and severe as he brandishes his blade, snapping his wrist and twirling the hilt into his grip. Something is wrong, and you follow his glare to the trees, trying to figure out what danger he’s detected looming in the shadows.
Astarion leaps to his feet and hauls you up with him by the back of your shirt so fast you’re dizzy by the time he pushes you and commands, “Run!”
You hesitate. Does he really expect you to leave him here when there’s a threat nearby? Is he out of his mind? Has he forgotten who you are and the power you possess?
“No,” you shake your head, gripping the Weave. “Whatever is coming, we can fight it together like we always did!”
“I said RUN!” Astarion shouts gruffly.
“I’m not leaving you here!”
Astarion sighs, “You leave me no choice. I’m sorry.”
Suddenly, you feel that presence in your head, but not in the way as if he were opening the bond. No, this time, it takes your control, wicking it out of your muscles, tendons, and bones and bequeathing it to him. Your eyes widen as all your muscles go stiff and await the incoming command.
Compulsion.
Hells, you can barely blink without his godsdamned permission. You’re trying to shake your head, to speak, to fucking scream, to get him to stop, but your body pays no heed to your instructions. The only command that matters is his, and you await it like an obedient hound.
Astarion speaks precise commands, “Run to the manor as fast as you can and stay there until I return. You will stop for no one and nothing.”
“Run to the manor as fast as I can and stay there,” the words are pulled out of your lungs without your consent. “I will stop for no one and nothing.”
Your body pivots without your approval, and you break into a full sprint, streaking through the forest like a meteor. You hurtle over fallen trees and boulders while ducking under long-limbed branches and zigzagging between trees at a break-neck pace you can’t control. Your mind chants your command in a hypnotic chorus.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
The repeating instruction is nearly all you can focus on. It drowns all other thoughts out. There’s a quiver outside that melody, the beating drum of footsteps and heartbeats. You can’t turn your head. You do not have the authority to do so, but your eyes scan your surroundings. Catching movement between the trees, you finally comprehend what’s going on.
The Gur.
It’s hard for you to focus on anything besides your mad dash, but you vaguely make out that they are stalking in the forest all around you. You strain to focus on the sounds outside of the tittering in your head, and you finally hear the sound of howling, enraged warriors and clashing steel.
No. No. Why did he send me away? I can fight!
Good Gods. It’s hard to think. Hands catch you, stopping you in your tracks, but your body is not yours. You’ve been told to run and stop for nothing, and it’s agonizing to disobey, like a million sharp nails being hammered into every atom of your being, making you cry out. You would do anything, fucking anything, to make this suffering end.
You cast Thunderwave, throwing anyone in the vicinity backward and then Fireball in quick succession almost unconsciously. You can barely focus on anything but the order to run and the pain of not doing so. You whirl to continue running, but another hunter grabs you, snarling with yellow teeth and spittle flying from his lips.
By the Gods, it hurts. You can’t think through the white-hot pain.
Clawed, furry paws grab the hunter from behind before a snout full of razor-tipped, serrated fangs sink into the Gur’s throat and rip it out. Your mind is so singularly focused you can’t even be bothered to be tempted by the blood. Hells. You don’t even have permission to smell it, so you don’t. It takes you a moment to recognize the werewolf standing before you as part of Astarion’s powers.
Will his hellspawn mutt attack you as well? It drops the hunter with a howl that would make your blood run cold if it was not already and stares at you, waiting and watching, flexing its claws and growling. Its fangs are dipped in crimson, and blood drips from its snout. Astarion must have sent it to protect you. That’s the only reason it would be here with you and not helping him.
No! Go back. Help him.
You want to scream at it, but you’re already running again with the werewolf as your shadow.
It sprints ahead and kills any hunters that aim to thwart you, but if it misses, you do not hesitate to kill. You will take a million lives if it means you don’t have to feel that pain again, you will do anything to continue obeying, and you cast subconsciously with deadly power and finesse. Even the thought of turning around and going back, of defying your orders, causes pain to slice into your psyche like hot steel. An arrow plunges through your shoulder, swords and axes slice into your skin, painting your body vivid red, yet you feel nothing but the undeniable need to comply. Your nerves have not been given the authorization to feel pain. Could you even die, or are you not allowed?
When you finally break the treeline, the werewolf trailing you sinks back into the gloom as you bolt toward the manor with a resounding, echoing bay as if it’s signalling to Astarion that its job has been completed.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
You sprint full speed through Rivington, Wyrm's Crossing, and the Lower City without slowing your brutal pace. You blow past citizens who stare at you with wild eyes and angry shouts as you push past them with desperation so intense it eclipses everything else. Is this how Astarion felt when Cazador compelled him? Was he as helpless to refuse as you are in this moment?
Astarion has never compelled you before, at least that you know about. How long will this last? How far does his reach extend? If he told you to run forever, would your body run until the ground gnawed your legs into bloody stumps? What would happen if you could no longer run? Would the pain from disobeying eventually kill you, or would you be stuck in a purgatory of white-hot agony for eternity?
When you finally get to the manor and slam the door behind you. You stand stiff as a statue in the foyer. Sweat runs down your face and chest, but you can’t get your arms to move to wipe it from your eyes, and blood splashes, dripping onto the floor from your fingertips like a leaky faucet. Your head won’t swivel to look around, and your eyes will not move in their sockets, so you're stuck staring straight ahead. At least the chanting in your head has gone silent, and you can think freely, or perhaps that’s worse. Now, you can’t think of anything but Astarion, alone in battle with however many Gur. If they knew who they were hunting, which they must, they would come in vast numbers.
What was that idiot thinking? You could have helped him! He may be the Vampire Ascendant, but he’s not indestructible. Unless he is? Truly, you have no idea what he is capable of. Astarion is a force to be reckoned with, but will he lose himself in this? When he gets back to the manor which him will he be? Will you still be stuck like an effigy and unable to defend yourself? What if he doesn’t come back? Will you forever be a statue in this foyer?
Gods. You need to get back there and help him, but as soon as you have any intention of trying to move, trying to break this authority over your body, your mind warbles the enchanting tune of compliance.
Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.
Fuck! You try your magic. It glows on your fingers and even heats in your palms, but without being able to move your arms, it’s useless. There’s nothing you can do. You’re immovable until either his compulsion wanes or he gives you new orders.
With nothing else to do, your mind wanders.
You prowl the halls of the Crimson Palace looking for Astarion after escaping from the prison of your room. The air in this place is musty, and you can still smell what remains of Cazador in the rooms and halls. This place is oppressive and cold, and he’s changed nothing.
“Astarion!” You scream in a blind rage that sweeps over you like wildfire.
You round the corner and see him sitting at his desk, glaring at you with a bland, expressionless stare. You fill yourself with the Weave until you’re awash with it, and your palms are so blisteringly hot that the skin boils and blisters. Whoever this man staring at you is, not the Astarion you knew.
You should try and kill him, but you cannot bring yourself to do it. Is that a consequence of being his spawn? Is your loyalty to him poisoned, or is it love that refrains you?
Astarion leans back, “What in the Hells,” he growls, his brows pinching together in a fearsome scowl, “do you think you’re doing out of your room?”
“Astarion. Listen to me, please,” you plead. “Something isn’t right. This is not you. Why are you doing this? Why do I have to stay in my room? What happened to Aeterna Amantes?”
“Oh, love,” he scoffs with a sneer. “Come now. Did you truly believe I would ever be beholden to one person? For eternity? HA! I told you before. I am a man of enormous appetites. Don’t worry,” he purrs. “You will always be my favourite.”
Angry tears roll down your cheeks at his taunts, and you can see in his face that he takes satisfaction in your pain. Fire bursts from your palm, licking up your forearms, “The Rite changed you. This isn’t you. You were never cruel before.”
“Are you positive you truly knew me?” Astarion stands slowly, “Yes, the Rite did change me. I am a veritable God! All thanks to you. You will forever have my undying gratitude. If you’re a good little pet, I will take excellent care of you. You will want for nothing.”
A good little pet...
“What I want is the old you back!” You shout at the top of your lungs.
“You want cute, cuddly Astarion?” He laughs mockingly and then hisses with venomous contempt, “That pathetic wretch is dead. He was a miserable, weak little pest. Grieve him, for he is gone, and he is never coming back.”
"Fuck! You don’t have to be cute, cuddly Astarion, but there isn’t even a hint of Astarion left in you, whoever you are!”
Astarion is advancing on you with slow steps, and you reflexively take steps back. Good Gods. He’s herding you like an animal.
“I am the Vampire Ascendant and your creator, and you will give me the respect I am due.” His hands come to his chin, “I think you will call me Master from now on.”
“I will never call you Master!” You retort in a voice dripping with defiance. Flames twirl around your forearms like a tornado.
“I could make you,” He rebukes with an impassive inflection, “All it would take is a thought, and you will do anything I say.”
“Then do it, you fuck!” You conclude, baring your teeth. You’re sick of his threats. If he’s going to make you a puppet, you would rather he get it over with. “Go ahead, Ascendant! Show me your power.”
Astarion laughs lightheartedly, but his face is as expressive as a white wall, “Don’t be such a fucking bitch.”
Oh. No.
You cast Scorching Rays against him, buffeting him repeatedly with a sorrowful, hopeless scream. It burns him, some of his pallid skin ruddy and his clothes hang off him in tatters. Astarion lunges at you, a streak of silver lightning, and throws you to the ground, breaking the floorboards beneath you. He snarls in your face with his fangs bared and pestilent abhorrence in his numb eyes.
“Do you feel like a man, Astarion?” You spit with a wheeze, “Does throwing me around make you feel good?”
It’s barely perceptible, but there’s a meagre flash in his eyes. The pressure with which he pins you to the floor recedes slightly. He shakes his head, and it’s gone. Astarion drags you through the halls by your ankle, down the stairs, uncaring as your head smashes against each step. You grimace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out. You don’t bother to cast again as grief smothers your anger, and the flames die out along with your will to live.
Astarion tosses you into your room, your body skipping across the floor like a flat stone across the surface of a lake.
“Stay, pet.” He commands with an aloof chuckle, whirls around and leaves.
The lock clicks, and the metal bolt slides into place. Knock does not work on locks like that. It seems he’s learned your tricks.
“No!” You scream, rattling the door, “No! Please! Astarion, don’t do this.”
He does not answer.
It’s hard to tell how much time goes by. Days? Weeks? Who knows, but you’re so hungry that you’re sitting on the floor, sobbing against the door, clawing at it as if you might be able to dig your way out. Your fingers are bloodied, and you’ve ripped off your fingernails in your desperation.
“Astarion!” You wail, sobbing as your muscles jerk and spasm painfully.
He does not answer.
He never answers.
Your knees give way, and you crash to the ground, breaking you out of the memory. Astarion’s compulsion has broken, and your body is finally your own to control. You yank the arrow from your shoulder and burn it to ash.
Astarion…
Peering around and listening closely, you surmise that he still has not returned. Pushing yourself to your feet, your muscles cramp severely and twitch, a tune of overexertion from your retreat. With the compulsion gone, sensation returns, and you feel the wounds you received with a biting ferocity. The only thing on your mind is finding Astarion, and you lunge for the door hastily. Golden rays of sunlight flood the foyer as soon as you fling it open, and you're washed in the agony of the Hells. Every nerve melts as you're immersed in rivers of liquid fire in Phlegethos. Your skin sizzles, snapping into fissures and greying rapidly.
It’s the kind of pain that makes you want to scratch your skin off to escape your body. You throw yourself back with a screech, and the pain ebbs as your skin slowly stops smouldering. Dropping to the ground, you cast Telekinesis and throw the door closed with a frustrated roar. If you cannot go into the sun, Astarion is not nearby or… Gods, you don’t even want to think about it. You don’t even want the thought to run through your mind, but it does, regardless of your restraint.
Astarion could be dead.
The only solace you have is that feeling in the back of your mind that still lingers. If he was dead, would that also disappear? You’re unsure. You tell yourself it would because you desperately need the lie to keep you sane. Reaching out to it, you try to force it open, but it does not budge, and Astarion does not respond to the request, increasing your panic further.
What can you do? You need to do something, anything, but what? You’re stuck in this fucking manor until the sun goes down. You get up and pace back and forth, rage building inside you. Why did he send you away? You’re a godsdamned terror in battle. You could have helped him, and now you’re stuck here, unable to do anything.
Fuck!
You scream as tears streak down your burnt face, grabbing a mirror from the wall and throwing it against the floor, shattering it to bits. He made you stand here like a foolish statue all night while he… you don’t finish the thought.
You can’t.
Come back to me. Please.
Things are falling apart quicker than you can piece them back together. Astarion told you he wanted you to be his, and you balked. All the reasons you felt so resolute about suddenly seem so trivial. For a year, you would have done anything to have him back, and now you do, and you’re too scared to put your already dead and broken heart on the table.
This love might kill you, but it’s not over. It was never over. It could never be over.
You chuck a vase against the wall and snarl like a wild animal. It bursts, showering the floor in a spray of glass. You cannot control your rabid emotions. You punch a hole through the wood panelling, tear paintings off it and snap them into pieces as you fall into a tailspin of misery.
You pace the hallways in a rage. At him. At yourself. At the world.
You will not lose him to whatever that thing is inside of him.
You will not lose him.
You cannot lose him.
The jagged pieces of your frenzy are strewn haphazardly throughout the manor and resemble a portrayal of what remains of your life. Everything is broken, fragmented and sharp enough to cut down to bone.
Desperate to feel close to him in some form, you run up to his room. It smells like bergamot and rosemary with a hint of aged brandy - it smells like him, and he smells like home. You inhale deeply. Grim thoughts race through your mind like a whirling flood that creeps out of your eyes in the form of tears. Without Astarion’s heartbeat, the silence in this place is heavy and dark, like a passing cloud.
You lay on the bed, and your hand skims over where he was this morning when you woke with your head on his chest. Astarion held you all night and long into the morning. When your eyes opened, Astarion was already gazing at you with scarlet eyes as gorgeous as the heavens and as deep as the hells. His expression was warm-hearted, loving even. He looked at you like he used to.
“Well, hello, beautiful.”
He smiled, sweeping your hair out of your sleepy eyes. All the things he’s said to you start echoing through your mind.
“I missed you, you know. When you left.”
“You make me feel.”
“I could never get you out of my head.”
“I told you I can be romantic.”
“Yes, little love, true feelings.”
“My feelings for you, of course.”
Good Gods. Has he been trying to tell you he loves you through his actions this entire time? You’ve been so caught up in not letting yourself fall into another trap that you didn’t see it. You were reading random pages and not the entire book.
It ends today. You don’t know where this will end, but you know where it must start.
Curling up on the bed, you cry until you manage to push yourself into your trance because that’s all you can do.
Your hand slams into the wooden door with a force that causes it to whine. Night has finally consumed the sun, and Astarion still has not returned. When you woke, the manor was still deathly silent.
Shadowheart opens the door a crack, and her eyes widen when she sees you. She scowls fiercely, “Did Astarion do this to you!?” She growls with a clenched fist.
Did he do what to me? Oh....
“No,” you assure quickly. Your skin is still creviced and grey with red, scabbed lacerations marring your flesh. You push yourself into the house. “This was not him. He’s missing. I need your help to find him.”
Shadowheart’s magic washes over you, healing your wounds, and she takes a quick step back. She knows better than to get too close to you, but right now, your hysteria is overriding any bloodlust you might feel.
Even though she does smell delicious.
Gale frowns, “What do you mean missing?”
“We were attacked by Gur in the forest last night,” you blurt out rapidly. “He hasn’t come home.”
Gale smiles. He fucking smiles, and it takes everything in you not to slap that grin off his face. He shrugs, “Good riddance, I say.”
“I’m sorry, but I agree with Gale,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “He told me what happened. Is it true Astarion was going to kill him?”
“Gale attacked him!” You roar with a hiss, narrowing your eyes at Gale who noticeably jolts at your rough inflection. You sigh and try to calm your rampaging temper, “You don’t understand, and I do not have time to explain it right now. Without Astarion, I cannot be out in the sun. I only have until dawn to find him. We must hurry.”
Gale scoffs, “I’m sorry, but there is no “we,” in this, my friend. If the Gur took care of that monster for us, we should be thanking them.”
You knew Gale would be a longshot, especially after what happened at the manor, but Shadowheart might still be swayed but your pleas.
“Shadowheart, please,” you beg, tears kissing your cheeks once again. “I need help.”
“I don’t know...” She sighs, rubbing her face. “He’s dangerous. Why not just leave him to his fate? If he is dead, you’re free. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not if his death is the price of that freedom,” you rasp. You clutch your chest, wishing to feel his heart beating behind your breast, to feel complete, because, without him, you are so vastly empty. “Dangerous as he is, he is my safe, Shadowheart.”
“How did you get away?” Shadowheart asks.
“He compelled me,” your voice breaks. “The idiot compelled me to leave.”
Shadowheart arches a brow and purses her lips, “Does he compel you often?”
“He’s never compelled me before,” you groan at the memory of your body betraying you. “Astarion told me to leave, and I refused. It’s the first time he’s compelled me, and it was to get me away from danger. Stupid, foolish imbecile!”
Well, it’s the first time he’s compelled you that you know about, but alas, she doesn’t need to know that.
Shadowheart looks you over and you’re not exactly sure what she’s looking for, but she finally nods, “Okay. Give me a moment to get ready. I will help you look for him.”
“You cannot be serious, Shadowheart!” Gale says hoarsely.
Shadowheart sniffs and waves dismissively, “We have all had our demons, Gale. Astarion is no exception.”
“He killed her!” Gale shouts. “He turned her into,” Gale cringes with a gesture toward you. “This.”
Gods, you’ve had just about enough of everyone blaming him for your choices, and you step forward, “I wanted to be turned into this,” you hiss in contempt. “Astarion did not force me. I’ve told you this time and time again.”
Shadowheart gives your arm a light tug, pulling you back, “I will help you look. Perhaps it would be best for you to wait outside, and Gale,” she scolds with a sniff, “I expected better of you. Gods know you reached for unfathomable power, and you would have taken it in a heartbeat.”
The air is crisp in your lungs. Shadowheart was right to send you outside. There is no time to participate in an argument right now, but you will have to return and speak to Gale and Shadowheart eventually to sort this out - if it can be sorted out.
Shadowheart joins quickly, dressed in her armour with her spear slung across her back and a pack around her shoulders, “Let’s go,” she nods. “How much ground do we have to cover?”
“We were on the outskirts of the forest when they attacked. It’s not a substantial distance, but it’s not close either. We will have to hurry.”
You can run endlessly since you don’t require air, and you bolt ahead of Shadowheart to scout the way. Your body is sticky with sweat. It rolls down your temples like a stream from your pores. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is a welcome distraction from the woe warping your heart.
How had the Gur known where you were? Someone must have tipped them off, but who?
It doesn’t take long until the air smells of sweat, death and old, congealed blood, and you can at least follow the scent. The forest is eerily soundless, with only small streaks of moonlight as pale as ghosts streaking through the dense canopy. No animals scurry. No wind blows. No insects chirp. Only the sound of your feet crunching over the forest floor.
Mutilated bodies of Gur, werewolves, and hundreds of bats litter the earth in a carpet of flesh and gore. The ground is a blood-stained dark maroon and squelches under your feet as you slow your pace. Your mouth drops open as you look around, astonished at the number of bodies. Terror sinks into you, and you start pulling on bodies only to uncover more underneath. Heaps of dead in unfathomable numbers. Hells. You listen for a heartbeat but hear none. You choke back sobs. There’s no way he could have survived this, and you hate him for making you leave.
Your ears twitch as they catch the sound of twigs breaking behind you. If it were Shadowheart, she would surely make her presence known. You whirl just in time for snapping fangs to miss your throat as a werewolf lunges. You cast Gust of Wind and send it reeling off its feet. It stands snarling, but it’s gravely wounded, with a sickeningly large festering gash in its belly. You don’t know if this thing will listen or if it can even understand you, but you must try.
“I’m a friend.” You put your hands up but are ready to cast should this prove to be a futile attempt. “Your master’s friend.”
Its ears flick and twitch around as it listens. It sniffs the air and makes no further move to attack.
“Take me to him,” you instruct as commanding as you can. “Now.”
Its lips pull back to reveal rows of sharp teeth and growls, but it turns and plods away unsteadily. You don’t know if it’s just decided you’re not a threat or if it will take you to Astarion, but you pursue it.
The number of bodies dwindles the further you follow, with only a few scattered here and there like dead leaves shed from the trees. Sliding down a steep incline, it finally turns to you, ears flattening against its head, drooping at the tips, and points its disfigured paw with a melancholy whine.
You scramble forward, eyes skimming the ground, and finally see Astarion lying motionless on the rust-coloured earth, painted with blood and gore. His ivory skin only peeks through between the cracks in the drying crimson veil sheeting his body. Countless wounds mar his flesh, some superficial and others that make your stomach twist in your belly, threatening to spill its contents.
You flop to your knees and shake him vigorously, “Astarion!” Your voice is a screeching pitch that could shatter glass, “Astarion! Wake up! Please.”
He does not wake or rouse. He’s cold, deathly cold like he used to be. Leaning down, you put your ear to his chest and try to stifle your loud sobbing so you can listen. You hear nothing. His chest is as silent as yours, seized by the dominion of death. Touching his cheek, you scream shrilly into the night, lamenting your pain to the heavens.
Shadowheart.
You don’t want to leave his side, but you pull yourself away and charge with renewed vigour until you catch Shadowheart’s scent and the hammering thud, thud, thud of her heart. You nearly crash into her in your haste.
“Hells,” She jumps, grabs your shoulders to steady you, and sees the inconsolable look on your face, “What’s wrong?”
“I found him,” your knees are rickety. The only thing keeping you upright and from hurtling off the edge of collapse is the need to return to his side. He can’t be dead. He can’t be! “I think… Gods, I think he’s dead, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart’s mouth drops open in a gasp, “Show me.”
Sliding down the slope, you dive to Astarion’s side, hands coming to his face, sweeping your thumb across his frigid cheek. Shadowheart drops to her knees with magic already glowing on her fingers. The colour drains from her face, leaving her as pale as you, awash with horror at the grotesque sight.
“Hells below,” she mumbles. “Is his heart beating? Does it usually beat?”
She knows your hearing is sharper than hers, “It usually does,” you falter and place a splayed hand on your chest. You glance at her and shake your head, “It’s as still as mine.”
Shadowheart casts and her magic sinks into Astarion, but he does not stir. She tries again, and again, and again, increasing the strength with every successive round with no result. Astarion does not so much as twitch a finger or muscle.
You shake him again, screaming into his face as your tears fall like raindrops splashing on his cheeks, “Don’t you dare think about leaving me! Please... please, don’t leave me alone. I need you, Astarion.”
Shadowheart’s cheeks are red, and her eyes brim with shiny tears. She gives you a look of regret, and you know what she’s thinking without her even saying it because you’re thinking it, too.
“He can’t be...” you choke as you fall to pieces.
“I’m sorry,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her face contorted in sorrow, “I’m so sorry.”
You fall forward onto Astarion’s lifeless chest, blanketing him with your body, and you scream, guttural and ear-splitting as continuous as the stream of time.
Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!
AO3 [Crossposted]
Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts
If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past
Small Notes:
I'm releasing this chapter earlier than I usually do because I've finally had some time to sit and do nothing but write (my favourite), but that means it may push back the release of the next chapter. It will depend on how work and life go this week.
Apologies, darlings. For the cliffhanger.
#ascended astarion#astarion fanfic#bg3#astarion x you#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion smut#fangs and fractured hearts
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unguent of Palliation – Potion, rare
This twisted potion is brewed from the strangest ingredients taken from the darkest depths of the sea. Given to moribund members of the Shelligan society, the contained liquid prepares their dying bodies for the journey to embrace undeath. While a shelligan will turn undead in any case, the unguent of palliation tremendously eases this process by taking away most of the pain – physically and mentally. Drinking this potion outside its intended application will manifest a subtle hint of necrotic energy in the body and soul of its consumer.
🔮 If you like my work, kindly consider to support me on Patreon to gain access to monster pages, tokens & artwork of over 250 quirky creatures as well as dozens of potion & item cards based on their lore.
#fantasy art#artists on tumblr#magic potion#baldur's gate 3#dnd item#d&d 5e#illustration#artist#animation#art#dnd#hand drawn#homebrew#paintings#fantasy#digital art#dungeons and dragons#ciritcal role#ttrpg#worldbuilding
59 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tommyinnittz
status: hello Bitches
cargapositivaaa
carga positiva
pokemon-cards-and-brew
Pokemon-Cards-and-Brew
canmex
Sans titre
