#ascended death

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 9, Number 5

Ascended Dead

Hard to believe we’re approaching the halfway point of another year, and yet here we are in May, thinking about the mid-year and how we’re going to fit all the excellent stuff so far into a reasonable length list.  There’s always too much music, a wonderful problem, but a problem all the same.  And so we turn again to Dust to burn off some of the excess.  As usual, the reviews run the gamut, from lucid ambient reveries to blistering industrial mayhem, from joyful death metal (surely a contradiction in terms?) to ragged improvised noise. Contributors this time include Ian Mathers, Andrew Forell, Jonathan Shaw, Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Christian Carey Jennifer Kelly, Bryon Hayes and Jim Marks.  

Aarktica — Paeans (Projekt)

Paeans by Aarktica

One of the most distinct and striking things about Jon DeRosa’s work as Aarktica has always been the way he blends more ‘pure’ ambient material with songs, both his own and others (everyone from Danzig to Peruvian shamanic songwriter Artur Mena). The new Paeans actually marks the first Aarktica LP without DeRosa’s vocals since his debut, 2000’s No Solace for Sleep. Coming on the heels of last year’s magnificent We Will Find the Light, this record could have just felt like a post-banquet digestif, but instead it’s a reminder of the beautiful, clear atmospheres DeRosa can make with just his guitar (here ably assisted by Henrik Meierkord on cello and viola). Whether it’s going Ashra-stratospheric on “Arcturan Transmission” or drifting towards Stars of the Lid on “Golden Hour at Pyramid House,” the result is a reminder of how vital his ambient work is.

Ian Mathers

 Antimaterial Worlds — Double Saturns Last Purification Exercises (Chemical X)

Double Saturns Last Purification Exercises by ANTIMATERIAL WORLDS

Gaura-jīvana Dāsa has a long history of industrial noise making under various names and degrees of success. His latest incarnation, as Antimaterial Worlds, combines the raucous noise of past projects Skull Catalog and Sewn Leather with his learnings from several years of immersion in Vedic religious studies. The results will do little to win converts to either enterprise. Musically, Double Saturns Last Purification Exercises clings to lesser Nine Inch Nails flailing whilst the lyrics swing from masochistic self-abnegation to that peculiar form of So-Cal spiritual sadism that seeks to purge the penitent while scourging the sinner. The “Kill them all and let God sort them out” forgets that hubris is a powerful enemy for the faithful but if you like your prophets wild-eyed, messianic and slinging guitars instead of lightning bolts and locusts, have at it.

Andrew Forell

 Ascended Dead — Evenfall of the Apocalypse (20 Buck Spin)

Evenfall of the Apocalypse by Ascended Dead

Evenfall of the Apocalypse comprises 42 minutes of perversely joyous Metal ov Death. Not much else to tell you, folks. The four San Diego-based musicians in Ascended Dead continue their project of making songs that cleave to the verities of the Old School, which they have come by honestly: drummer C. Koryn and bass player Kevin Schreutelkamp have put in time in the live bands of Blasphemy, Incantation and Morbid Angel, death metal legends, all. In Ascended Dead, that rhythm section is joined by guitarists Ian Lawrence and Jon Reider, and the requisite whirling chaos commences. It’s a lot of fun. Every song is overstuffed with riffs and ideas, all constantly on the verge of collapsing into noisome, rotten goo. Koryn’s drumming keeps them coherent (mostly, anyways) and coaxes them into increasingly wacky shapes, building toward the next semi-blackened guitar break or bout of psychotic shredding. There’s nothing innovative or risk-taking here, but it's nimbly composed, confidently executed and always on the move. The shorter tunes (“Nexus of the Black Flame,” “Bestial Vengeance”) are especially effective. They arrive, they mess up your mind, they’re gone. Come back and do it again, please.

Jonathan Shaw  

 Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean — Obsession Destruction (Redscroll Records)

Obsession Destruction by Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean

There’s not a tremendous amount of range in sludge metal, so it makes sense that Massachusetts band Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean seems to have derived its name by altering the title of a song (“Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean”) from Thou, perhaps the best sludge band to make misery-inducing music since Eyehategod. But’s there’s a line to be drawn between recognition of one’s artistic idols and pastiche, and Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean steps right along it — or crawls, or trudges, as the case may be. Songs like “Summer Comes to Multiply” and “Every Day a Weeping Curse” sound a whole lot like…Thou. This reviewer responds, at a profound gut level, to those tones and rhythmic structures, so he can dig a tune like “Ten Thousand Years of Unending Failure.” Ironically, it succeeds. It’s crushing and thrilling and huge, and it closes with an entertainingly daft lyric couplet: “When obsession takes over I’ll be fine / When destruction takes over I’ll decide.” Is that nihilism? A sort of fist-clenched catharsis? The aggro intensities of the music can accommodate both, creating a pretty good set of emotive qualities for a sludge song. Why decide, dudes? 

Jonathan Shaw 

 Clark — Sus Dog (Throttle)

Sus Dog by Clark

Clark’s most recent releases have been dominated by soundtracks and neo-classical work (2021’s Playground In A Lake and 2019’s Kiri Variations are especially beautiful). On his new album, Sus Dog, he returns to an electronically dominated palette, introduces his own voice as a key element, and even gets Thom Yorke on board as executive producer. Yorke’s involvement is obviously a drawcard for anyone interested in the Radiohead frontman’s oeuvre, with the overall sound of Sus Dog largely in the vein of Yorke’s last solo album, Anima. Clark’s voice is similar to Caribou’s Dan Snaith in its timbre and the way it sits in the mix, while squiggly synthesizer lines and pounding drum breaks carry the music forward with aplomb. However, it’s Sus Dog’s down-tempo moments that really shine, such as the title track, featuring guest vocals from Anika; “Medicine,” featuring Yorke on bass and vocals; and the piano-driven closer, “Ladder,” which repeats the striking vocal refrain, “Living on a ladder, stuck between two floors.”  

Tim Clarke

 The Electric Nature — Old World Die Must (Feeding Tube / NULL|ZØNE)

Old World Die Must by The Electric Nature

The Electric Nature is a free noise trio which is based in Athens, GA. Improvisation is baked into their methodology, but that doesn’t mean that they serve up raw jams. This album, which is a rare vinyl outing in their mostly cassette/digital discography, contains just two, side-long tracks, but includes sounds made between 2015 and 2022. Given the density of their sound, one suspects that Michael Potter, Michael Piece and Thom Strickland, who are jointly credited with guitars, synths, drums and recordings, add tapes of earlier performances to the one at hand. But don’t get the idea that these guys are snakes swallowing their collective tail; they’re decidedly open to outside input. “Enter Chapel Perilous” opens with the croaks of some swamp denizens, and then turns the spotlight over to Sunwatchers saxophonist Jeff Tobias, whose long, furry tones clear the path for the eventual battering assault. The trio is likewise augmented on the flip side’s titular performance by John Kiran Fernandes, whose clarinet adds a Morricone-esque dimension to the late-night squall. Times are tough nowadays — sometimes it takes a village to whip up some solar wind. 

Bill Meyer

Feather Beds — Softer Measures (Strange Brew)

Softer Measures by Feather Beds

Feather Beds is the experimental pop project of Irish musician Michael Orange, and on his new album, Softer Measures, he pushes things to perverse extremes. The album title seems to allude to the music’s raw materials being endlessly pliable, able to be squashed and stretched into new forms. There are identifiably pop-leaning tunes here, but often buried beneath effects and refracted through a funhouse mirror. Predictably it’s the two singles, “Really Disney” and “Sport of Boxing,” that offer the most immediate gratification, but even then, things get weird, a la early Animal Collective or Ronald Jones-era Flaming Lips. “Sport of Boxing,” for example, is a jangly lo-fi pop tune that hurtles along at an addictive clip, only to be swallowed up by chittering digital loops. Indeed, there’s something decidedly nightmarish about the way the songs refuse to follow the path you might imagine. Rhythms stutter and stumble, guitar tones warp in and out of tune, voices circle eerily and overlap one another. All the chaos renders moments of calm, such as the end of “We Safari,” uncannily beautiful.

Tim Clarke

 The High Strung — Address Unknown (Paper Thin)

The High Strung makes a kind of trebly, warbly, high energy garage pop pioneered by the Seeds and the Flaming Groovies and rediscovered during the aughts “rock is back” era by the Cynics, the Gripweeds and the Insomniacs. It’s not quite bubblegum, but it’s got a fair lacing of sweetness, and it’s hard to do well without slipping into saccharine cliché. Address Unknown is the band’s 11th album, following several decades together, through multiple line-ups and one major breakthrough: a song in opening credits of the Showtime series Shameless. It is everything you’d expect from a band of lifers—tight and relaxed at the same time, sure of itself but not particularly concerned about reception, and utterly charming. I like “Different Animal” the best, with its pounding beat and fluttering tunefulness, its clever rhymes and loopy harmonies. It’s the single and the video, and you can see why they focused on it, but there’s plenty of other good stuff as well. “Overcoat and Skis” with its Beatles-esque tootling keyboard and its wistful upward lilting melody, seems loose and casual until you recognize the sharpness of the ski-themed writing. (“It’s all downhill from here.”) “Run It Back” rocks harder, in a one-two punching way, but never abandons its tipsy whimsy, like XTC but rougher. Here’s a band neither torqued too tight nor slouched too low, but just a little high strung.

Jennifer Kelly

 Joseph Jarman-Don Moye feat. Craig Harris & Rafael Garrett — Earth Passage-Density (Eargong) 

By the early 1980s, when this album was recorded, the Art Ensemble Of Chicago spent a lot of their time playing music in other settings. On Earth Passage-Density, percussionist Don Moye and woodwinds multi-threat Joseph Jarman joined forces with Craig Harris, a trombone and digeridoo player who was active on several New York scenes, and Rafael Garrett, a bass and winds player who one worked with John Coltrane on the mind-melter, Om. Originally released by Black Saint and recently re-pressed by Eargong, this session shows the same breadth of reach as the AEC without shortchanging the creativity of Garrett and Harris. Patient development balances jump-cut transitional strategies and Brownian rhythmic urgency as they work their way through ceremonial dirges, angular bop, and gleefully chaotic funk. If you have any appreciation for the Art Ensemble’s pre-ECM recordings and haven’t heard this record yet, well, why are you being so hard on yourself?

Bill Meyer  

Rob Mazurek and Exploding Star Orchestra – Lightning Dreamers (Rogue Art)

Rob Mazurek enlists a formidable lineup for Lightning Dreamers, Exploding Star Orchestra’s latest recording, including instrumentalists Jeff Parker, Nicole Mitchell, Craig Taborn, Gerald Cleaver, and Angelica Sanchez. Damon Locks provides futurist lyrics and intoned vocals, taking the lead on “Future Shaman.” Mazurek’s cornet solo on the spacy “Dream Sleeper” is a standout, mellifluous and melodically inventive. The supple groove and doubled melodies on “Shape Shifter” demonstrate the groups allied affinities to fusion and modern jazz. Add in hat tips to the Arkestra, as on the paired pieces “Black River” and “White River,” and a fulsome brew is concocted.

Christian Carey

 Miranda and the Beat — S-T (Ernest Jennings)

Miranda And The Beat by Miranda and The Beat

“Sweat!” shouts Miranda Zipse in the opening salvo to this very strong album, as a soul-powered guitar snakes through surges of 1960s organs. She sounds like a long-lost Bond opening credit singer, from the Connery era no less, but she formed her band only a few years ago with her childhood friend Kim Sollecito, after dropping out of high school at 15. Now, she wields an astonishing belt, a swaggering style and a crack band of retro-maximalists. She’s caught the attention of another 1960s soul vamper, King Khan, who enthused, “I never thought I would see someone be able to play guitar with the ferocity of Link Wray, and sing like Lydia Lunch had a nuclear meltdown and morphed into Etta James and Yma Sumac.” Too much? Maybe, but “I’m Not Your Baby” swells and roars, surf guitar cascading through a Spector-esque wall of sound. “Concrete” cranks the tension with stuttering high-hat and drum—and blasts out of the blocks with a battering bass line. “Listen to the sound of the kids that are hanging out on the street,” she spits against the rough beat, and who knew that the kids would sound like this?

Jennifer Kelly

 Olololop, Arakawa Atsushi And Zea — Soyokaze (Makkum) 

Soyokaze by Olololop, Arakawa Atsushi and Zea

The Japanese trio Olololop plays electronic and acoustic percussion, and their compatriot Arakawa Atsushi manages electronics; one of them also plays a credible saxophone. They encountered Zea, the nom-du-rock of singer-guitarist Arnold de Boer (also of the Ex), at a Dutch music festival. Impelled by mutual appreciation, they flipped on some microphones and improvised a session which doesn’t fit easily into anyone’s pigeonhole, and is better off for it. Beats sputter, reeds and synth sputter, and at one point a poem drifts through the proceedings like a half-remembered dream. This music is a thing unto itself, beholden to no genre, but infused with the delight of jumping right in and finding out that you can swim. 

Bill Meyer

 Joakim Rainer Trio — Light Sentence (Sonic Transmissions) 

Light.Sentence by Joakim Rainer Trio

It must be daunting for any young musician to pick a point of entry into jazz these days. Joakim Rainer Petersen, the leader of this Norwegian piano trio, has chosen wisely. While he may not be as distinctive a composer as Kris Davis or Andrew Hill, his interest in their music helps to steer his own towards expressions of formal logic that are open to improvisational reassessment at any moment. He and bassist Alexander Risis sound like they’re completing each other’s ideas, but not by adding one guy’s statements to the other’s; no, their ideas cohere like two people saying parts of the same sentence. Drummer Rino Sivathas keeps things moving with a nicely splashy attack that keeps the moments of reflection from bogging down. Word has it that this combo tours, at least in Europe; keep your eyes and ears peeled. 

Bill Meyer

 Roser Monforte Trio — Landscape Songs (Self-Release)

LANDSCAPE SONGS, RM TRIO by RM TRIO

This slightly unusual trio lineup delivers jazz with a prog twist. Monforte has a big sound but gives drummer Jordi Pallarés and guitarist Pau Mainé plenty of space to realize her highly polished but uncluttered compositions.

The first two tracks, “Once upon a Time” and “Horses,” blend together into a suite that shows the group at its best. It begins with over a minute of unaccompanied guitar, which, as throughout the album, Mainé plays clean and with restraint. Pallarés is boisterous once he gets going, producing a wide range of sounds out of what looks like a fairly standard jazz kit, though well appointed with cymbals, in online videos. The leader eases into the tune around the minute-and-a-half mark with a catchy descending lick, and they’re off. Pallarés takes a solo at the transition between the tunes that is followed by the introduction of a new, serpentine theme and a neat shift in tempo, and the suite draws to a close with a funky vamp and a revisitation of the serpentine theme.

The rest of the tunes are nearly as memorable and fairly concise, most running three to five minutes. There’s plenty of variation, with “Cosmic Dancer” and “Orixa” straying into exotica and fusion territory, the lovely ballads “Absence” and “Baraka” slowing things down, and the rousing “anTANAnarivo” and “Atzutac” sure to set toes tapping.

Jim Marks

 Tomten — Artichoke (Plume)

Artichoke by Tomten

Tomten’s songs billow and swell in that frictionless, effortless way that often indicates great care and craft. The Seattle-based band makes heavy use of keyboards—organs and synthesizers for instance—for lulling sustained tones that envelop and soften rock song architectures. The surf rock swagger of “Lizard in the Grass” comes wrapped in a dream pop shimmer. “Grapefruit Sea” the opener and early single, has the rolling gait and spiraling psychedelic expansiveness of a Grand Archive cut (it reminds me of “Sleepdriving,” always a good thing). The lyrics are better than they need to be, with precise and evocative natural imagery scattered across the disc, poppies and wild heather and mallow weeds. The whole thing feels like a pleasant dream, radiant but fuzzy at the edges.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Volcano the Bear — Amateur Shakes (Volucan)

Amateur Shakes by Volcano The Bear

A new Volcano the Bear album is cause for celebration among fans of strange sounds. Unfortunately, even though it arrived this year, Amateur Shakes doesn’t comprise recent music. The Leicester-based Dadaists laid these songs to tape at the tail end of the 2000s, prior to the release their final official album, Golden Rhythm / Ink Music in 2012. Timeline aside, this is a notable release for the band. Recorded with Andreas Schmid at Faust Studios and with Hans-Joachim Irmler producing, this is some of their best-sounding and most surreal music. Like in a Burroughs novel, thematic elements explored on past records reappear in these songs’ lyrics, which are sung, croaked and howled. The group have dialed back their signature avant-jazz and polka leanings, leaving room for their less-frequented outré rock tendencies to shine through. The lengthier, multi-part songs “Amateurs Blind” and “Classic Clarence Fusion” somehow come across as the most accessible, with the other tracks absorbing the experimentalist influences of the studio. There’s an uncanny symbiosis going on here, but can it really be a coincidence that a proximity to Faust has intensified the band’s already kooky demeanor? This writer thinks not. 

#dust #dusted magazine #aartika #ian mathers #antimaterial worlds #andrew forell #ascended death #jonathan shaw #chained to the bottom of the ocean #clark #the electric nature #bill meyer #feather beds #the high strung #jennifer kelly #Joseph Jarman #miranda and the beat #Olololop #joakim rainer #Roser Monforte Trio #jim marks #tomten #volcano the bear #bryon hayes #Rob Mazurek and Exploding Star Orchestra #christian carey

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion's character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves atop your slit, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently suckling on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing mound unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your slit resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs in your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens for a moment, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look when your face is hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, locking eyes with you, and the proximity between you is such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You have failed him, just as he has failed others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs in the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Be that as it may, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

#personal #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 fic #ascended astarion #lord astarion #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #fic: death and his maiden #my fics

[anotherdarkiboi]

Is anyone going to talk about how Cazador was also both victim and abuser? How as Vellioth's spawn, he tried to reach out to a former friend (likely for help) and then Vellioth made Cazador watch as he drained his friend dry as punishment (and how Cazador locked Astarion up in a tomb for a year after being unwilling to kill a "darling boy" and trying to run)? How Cazador tried to rebel against his master and failed, being impaled for 11 years after (and how in Cazador's journals, he records all the actions of his spawn “with particular attention paid to Astarion”, and it's only in recent entries when Astarion disobeys him and goes missing that he “betrays any emotion” and is furious, writing about how he tortured Astarion's "siblings" for not finding him and wanting to torture Astarion himself)? How Cazador kills Vellioth during the Rite of Perfect Slaughter (just as Astarion kills Cazador during his Ascension ritual)?

How Astarion says that Cazador took particular pleasure in torturing him because his “screams sounded the sweetest”, but it's more likely that Cazador saw himself in Astarion from when he was Vellioth's spawn? How Cazador says "You are mine. Forever." in Astarion's nightmare, and how Ascended Astarion says "That's what you want, isn't it? To be mine, forever?" to Tav?

The parallels. The cycle. Augh.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 analysis #dnd #bg3 spoilers #cazador #cazador szarr #bg3 cazador #vellioth #abuse #cycle of abuse #baldurs gate #death mention #murder mention tw #torture mention #character analysis #Take everything I say with a grain of salt because I still haven't played the game yet lol

[writeshite]

Astarion doesn't bother to remember many things before his ascension; never bothered to keep in touch with anyone from before then either. He walks the long halls of his home and sits atop a throne, revered and worshipped akin to a god, with the memories of the tiefling who stole his undead heart so long ago. The same tiefling he'd driven away when the ascension had begun to twist his mind.

"Not that I don't love you, darling, but why do you insist on giving me flowers?" Astarion remembers asking, face flustered as you tilted your head at his question.

"Just because," you'd shrugged, taking another flower and placing it in Astarion's hair. The journey to Baldur's Gate was long, and the whole group had decided to take the roundabout path for some extra time to relax, well as much time you could all set aside to relax.

The last handful of flowers you'd given Astarion were still displayed on his bedside dresser, as fresh and vibrant as the day you'd picked them for him all those decades ago. "They won't wither as long as I live, a symbol of my love for you." Astarion had scoffed at your words and called you cheesy, all the while hiding his blushing face behind his hands. He hasn't seen your smile in decades? He can't remember, he doesn't know if he wants to.

#astarion x male reader #astarion x reader #i am so down bad for this man it's not even funny. i haven't finished the game yet but i saw so many ascended astarion edits #i had to ok #shitedrabbles #tiefling reader #druid reader #ascended astarion #✨because i have concerning taste in men✨ also spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3 mostly up to Act 2 (?) #circle of death au ⚰️

[rawrsatthetree]

Oh omg I just had such a fucked up idea for Ascended Astarion

Tw: infanticide and pregnancy. Gn but Tav is able to become pregnant.

Ok so since Ascended Astarion doesn’t make Tav break things off with Halsin imagine Consort Tav finds out soon after the events of the game that they’re pregnant.

However Astarion can immediately tell it’s not his child but Halsin’s much to his anger and disgust.

But instead of forcing Tav to terminate the pregnancy he allows them to carry the baby to term while also gently warning them that a spawn and a mortal’s child isn’t very likely to live.

He even allows them to tell Halsin at the reunion party.

However when Halsin tries to come and be involved Astarion makes sure he’s kept far away from the Crimson Palace. Simply telling Tav, “you know how fickle Halsin can be, I’m sure he’s simply too busy with his hoard of orphans. But don’t worry little love, I’ll always take care of you.”

He tolerates his consort reeking of Halsin’s stench for 9 months, pretending to be loving and supportive while they carry another man’s child.

As soon as the infant is born, Astarion’s mood changes as his mask slips off. Tav panics and cries to be given their baby, suddenly realizing Astarion intentions.

He has the infant killed right there in the room as Tav is held down screaming and fighting.

He uses his power over them to alter the memory of their perfectly health baby being killed in front of them so they believe that it was still born.

With Tav’s memory successfully changed they simply cry and ask to hold their baby just one time.

“I’m so sorry my love” Astarion holds them and comforts them as the now dead infant is given to them to hold.

He allows them to grieve the little bastard, once again playing the loving master they adore so much.

“It’s not your fault my love, the infant was simply too weak. But not to worry, I’ll give you a new child. A strong child, with the blood of the ascendant. As many children as my dear consort desires.”

#sorry this one is dark lol #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x durge #tavstarion #tw infanticide #tw infant death #tw pregnancy

[tavs-brainworm]

The NERVE of Ascended Astarion to put Tav on their knees, grab them by the throat, kiss them silly and shove them back like a rag doll — only to top it off with that earnest, sputtering,

Mm 🙈 hah 👉👈 I do rather like that, you know… 😳☺️

#the whiplash #the fucking death of me I swear #you CANT keep doing this to me #astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 #bg3 patch 6

[galedekarios]

if you are genuinely out there claiming that gale "succeeded" in everything he "wanted" by becoming a god and that's why it's a good ending for him, you truly are a testament to the slow and steady death of media literacy congrats lmao

#the entire boat scene in act iii beats you over the head that this is #perceived lack of self-worth and helplessness in the face of death and loss of faith #and indulging him in this is indulging means indulging his first impulse and instinct in response to #the first lifeline he sees for himself in years #unless you can be his lifeline instead #as a friend and as a lover #but that's all okay #it's totally okay for him to sacrifice everything including himself in a bid for power #because he still loves your tav sooo much when he ascends right #he loves them so much he couldn't contact them in six month to let them know he survived ascension lmao #jfc larian really crossed some wires bc the cutscene is pretty i can't #also if your bar for a happy ending for a character is if your tav gets a hug and some kissies while some nice music plays #then maybe you should be careful throwing words around like 'narrow-minded' and 'black/white' lol #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: personal #fandom critical #tbd

[shamelessdelusions]

Me with ADHD: *Getting overly excited anytime I interact with any of my hyperfixations*

Autistic friend: Are you sure you're not autistic?

Me: maybe

#adhd #hyperfixations #death stranding #skyrim #cult of the lamb #crocheting #jewelry #ascendance of a bookworm #detroit become human #yarn #buttons #neurodivergant

[ddarker-dreams]

begging on my knees for u miss ddarker dreams to give us some yandere astarion fiction we deserve please please please 🙏 😔 😢 😞 😫 😭 🙏 😔 😢 😞

back when astarion was what he'd describe as a 'lowly spawn,' he still had possessive tendencies. he fought hard to suppress them and had relative success. according to him, that is. he existed in this self-contradicting limbo of thinking himself unworthy of you yet wanting to be the constant center of your attention. he'd glower at the other members of your ragtag group should they made you smile too much or laugh too hard. for a while, he couldn't place why it bothered him so.

if anything, it should come as a relief to know you're that easy to please. a few frivolous tales from gale or off-color remarks from lae'zel have your eyes scrunching up in delight. and gods, he could do far better than that! his place in this eclectic bunch with you as the de facto leader should be secured until you're of no further use. this sweet sentiment turned sour as your journey went on. he agonized over your perception of him for reasons other than self-preservation.

ultimately, he never acted on the little whispers spurring him on to hinder your autonomy. astarion allowed for a wry comment directed at an overfriendly companion here and there, but the thought of actively meddling in your relationships didn't sit well with him. he could suck it up and stomach anything, so long as you weren't obviously uncomfortable.

after his ascension, however... he's inclined his ear toward those little whispers, heeding their counsel. what brilliant advisors he'd been ignoring! astarion decides he refused to act on these impulses because he was weak, incapable of fully seeing them through. now, though? what was once a farfetched dream could enter reality should he will it. he spurns the thought of physically restraining you — such brutish behavior is below an individual of his standing, unless you really pushed him to that — but words? words can bind better than chains. they're less obvious, too.

so he'll tailor his in a shape that fits you perfectly.

#questionable white-haired men have me in a death-grip rn. #i'm out here fighting for my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i have a type and it's so obvious good god #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x reader #honestly i just consider ascended astarion to be yan by default #concepts #answered #Anonymous

[zahanh]

Iterator ship naming

I saw pansear's one with slugcats and didn't see any other with iterators soooooo

I stayed up to 5m for this hehehheheheh

Now have these that may be edited as more are found

Five pebbles ships

Five pebbles x seven red suns - sunstone / seven pebbles / fpxsrs

Five pebbles x no significant harrasment - ragequit / noclip / fpxnsh

Five pebbles x unparalleled innocence - milkshake / trinkets / fpxui

Five pebbles x sliver of straw - gravel / faulty affirmative / fpxsos

Five pebbles x chasing/grey wind - hailstorm / fpxgw / fpxcw

Looks to the moon ships

Looks to the moon x no significant harrasment - lilypad / lttmxnsh

Looks to the moon x sliver of straw - waning crescent / slivermoon / faded memories / lttmxsos

Looks to the moon x seven red suns - eclipse / lttmxsrs

Looks to the moon x unparalleled innocence - unparalleled moon / innocent meteor / Moonflower / lttmxui

Looks to the moon x chasing/grey wind - cyclone / atmosphere / lttmxcw / lttmxgw

No significant harrasment ships

No significant harrasment x looks to the moon - lilypad / nshxlttm

No significant harrasment x five pebbles - ragequit / noclip / nshxfp

No significant harrasment x unparalleled innocence - team rocket / nshxui

No significant harrasment x seven red suns - traffic lights / nshxsrs

No significant harrasment x sliver of straw - taboo dissonance / nshxsos

No significant harrasment x chasing/grey wind - olive / nshxgw / nshxcw

Seven red suns ships

Seven red suns x five pebbles - sunstone / seven pebbles / srsxfp

Seven red suns x no signficant harrasment - traffic lights / srsxnsh

Seven red suns x looks to the moon - eclipse / srsxlttm

Seven red suns x unparalleled innocence - golden survey / unfortunate news / srsxui

Seven red suns x sliver of straw - unfortunate alternative / srsxsos

Seven red suns x chasing/grey wind - warm weather / solar flare / firebird / red wind / terapy / srsxgw / srsxcw

Sliver of straw ships

Sliver of straw x looks to the moon - waning crescent / slivermoon / faded memories / sosxlttm

Sliver of straw x five pebbles - gravel / faulty affirmative / sosxfp

Sliver of straw x no significant harrasment - taboo dissonance / sosxnsh

Sliver of straw x seven red suns - unfortunate alternative / sosxsrs

Sliver of straw x unparalleled innocence - peaceful contemplation / strawman / sosxui

Sliver of straw x chasing/grey wind - death zephyr / windy fields / sosxgw / sosxcw

Unparalleled innocence ships

Unparalleled innocence x five pebbles - milkshake / trinkets / uixfp

Unparalleled innocence x looks to the moon - unparalleled moon / innocent meteor / Moonflower / uixlttm

Unparalleled innocence x no significant harrasment - team rocket / uixnsh

Unparalleled innocence x seven red suns - golden survey / unfortunate news / uixsrs

Unparalleled innocence x sliver of straw - peaceful contemplation / strawman / uixsos

Unparalleled innocence x chasing/grey wind - grimace shake / content warning user interface / grinnocence / winnocence / uixgw / uixcw

Chasing/grey wind ships

Chasing/grey wind x five pebbles - hailstorm / gwxfp / cwxfp

Chasing/grey wind x looks to the moon - cyclone / atmosphere / gwxlttm / cwxlttm

Chasing/grey wind x no significant harrasment - olive / gwxnsh / cwxnsh

Chasing/grey wind x seven red suns - warm weather / solar flare / firebird / terapy / red wind / gwxsrs / cwxsrs

Chasing/grey wind x sliver of straw - death zephyr / windy fields / gwxsos / cwxsos

Chasing/grey wind x unparalleled innocence - grimace shake / content warning user interface / fleeting innocence / grinnocence / winnocence / gwxui / cwxui

Polyamorous ships

Five pebbles x no significant harrasment x seven red suns - triple divorce / roadrage / cold ones / fpxnshxsrs

no significant harrasment x looks to the moon x sliver of straw - green tea / nshxlttmxsos

Five pebbles x unparalleled innocence x no significant harrasment - double bullying / fpxuixnsh

Looks to the moon x no significant harrasment x seven red suns - solar system / lttmxnshxsrs

Extra ships (these are more fandom related + some are jokes)

Five pebbles x seven red suns x unparalleled innocence - ice cream sundae / fpxsrsxui

Absolent of sins x distant frontier - exempt bounds / distant sins / aosxdf (@distant-frontier-simp)

Giz x sliver of straw - gaming straws / ggxsos (@Gizgamer123 on twitter)

Chasing/grey wind x upright carnage - hurricane / gwxuc / cwxuc (@rw-repurposed but uc is from vic)

Unbroken promise x sliver of straw - ascended rhapsody / upxsos (iterator logs)

Three cold nights x seven red suns - plum / tcnxsrs (@airxpunged)

Five pebbles x sans (undertale) - rw charcoal / fpxsans

THIS TOOK TOO LONG AGHHHH

#If anyone wants any of these (the extra ones deleted) just tell me #rain world #five pebbles #looks to the moon #no significant harrasment #seven red suns #sliver of straw #unparalleled innocence #chasing wind #grey wind #rw sunstone #rw trafficlights #rw ragequit #wawaing #rw milkshake #rw plum #rw ascended rhapsody #rw hurricane #rw gaming straws #rw exempt bounds #rw gravel #rw faulty affirmative #rw hailstorm #rw grimace shake #rw death zephyr #rw warm weather #rw unparalleled moon #rw innocent meteor #rw golden survey #rw cyclone

[pursuitseternal]

“More Than Just A Little Death:” Heavy Angst with a “glimmer of a happy ending”Dark Lord Astarion x Enemy Tav

Ascended Astarion x Tav | E | 4.5K of angst with a glimmer of a happy ending

Screen grab from @venenum-cadaverinus 🖤

Summary: Centuries of darkness under the rule of the Vampire Ascendant come grinding to a halt. The one being who knows him is bound in his dungeon. What unfolds will hurt, with a glimmer of hope at the end. Mind the tags.

CW: This one will hurt, Heavy angst with a glimmer of a happy ending, Major Character Deaths, Tragedy, Hate Fuck, Sworn Enemies, Regret and True Feelings.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

Centuries of darkness. Of soot and ash spewed into the sky to blanket the lands in thick, acidic shadow.

Lands coated in constant shadow at the command of the great mountains of fire he has constructed, a matter of dedication to his desire for power, his ambition to rule. Even diverting magma and sulfur from the Peaks of Flame was but a small step in his plans to darken Faerûn, to bring it to heel as he deserved.

These were the lands of the Ascendant, the lands made perfect for his rule, and the heart of his ever-reaching empire. Cities, empires, nations all fell before his strength, his armies of undead vast and allconsuming. Not even Lathander’s Blood or his Light or He himself could touch the forces and power of Lord Astarion. He was brutal, bloodthirsty, ruthless….

And always victorious.

His lands were a breeding ground of spawn and red dragons and other terrifying creatures of the dark. Legends recounted tales of blood and destruction and domination, that the Vampire Ascendant had a heartbeat but no beating heart.

The only one who knew that his heart really did once beat beneath his ribs was just brought to his dungeons, roaming in the shadows of his dark tower. As if he didn’t smell her, knowing that scent even after centuries. As if he didn’t know the dance of her pulse in moments of fear or determination or arousal…

Lord Astarion adjusted the clasps of his armor, for he knew better than to approach her unprotected and unarmed. Given the amount of weapons found on that still supple, lithe frame of hers, it was clear she had come behind enemy lines with one goal in mind.

To finish what she would have centuries before when she left his side.

Stepping into the barred cells and depths of darkness of his dungeons, his eyes fixed their gaze on her trembling in her chains. He let his feet fall loudly, let his breath sound a little louder than he was accustomed to in his own vampiric domain. But it was enough to draw her attention.

Enough to have her stare at him with all the vitriol and hate in her heart he remembered.

And it made him flash a toothsome smirk. “Come to kill me again, darling?”

She said nothing, her breathing just more ragged as he entered her cell, the rusting hinges shrieking as he pushed them open and shut them in his wake. Her nostrils flared, her arms jerked against the chains that hung her arms out wide from her shoulders.

“No warm words for your ancient lover?” he crooned, eyes glowing in the darkness as he rounded behind her. “Hardly like you to not use your tongue in my presence… for speaking or other things…” He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, the thin, dark material of her shift torn from the rough treatment she had already received just being thrown in here. His touch danced harder in the spots where her flesh poked through.

She held her mouth shut firmly, shuddering under his touch, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling so as not to catch a glimpse of him.

“Afraid you’ll fall for me all over again, my dear, if you look at me?” he rasped just beside her pointed ear. A snarl in his throat, he pulled her by her chin, chains rattling as he forced that still beautiful face to meet his stare. She was fury incarnate, eyes dilated with hate, teeth grit to feel his touch on her skin, nostrils flaring with every enraged breath. Shaking herself free she sneered up at his smirk of victory. “Ah, that’s better, just like old times,”

“Unhand me,” she hissed with a snap of her teeth.

“And why would I do that?” Astarion purred, leaning closer to stroke her filthy cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I have you right where I want you, right where you always have been meant to be.”

“Your slave, your prisoner?” she spat, flinching again, eyes like coals burning with hate in the dungeon’s dark.

“At my side, under my touch, commanded by my control,” he looked at her, face lifting in an expression of pure sincerity.

“You mean trapped in the darkness you’ve brought over this beautiful realm…” she made herself reply.

He went silent for a moment, something in his crimson eyes hardened at her accusation. Something shifted in the way his fingers brushed her skin. The way they clamped onto her shoulder to pull her shaking body flush against his armored frame. “You left me in the dark, Tav, you took my sun, my stars and moon when you left me… I took the same from this precious realm you saved just to make it even.” His grip pinched harder, making a gasp unwillingly escape her chapped lips. “I’ve made this world almost as shadowed as your heart, darling.”

Summoning her strength, she resisted his clutch, making herself stand up all the taller despite his force. “You only remade the world in your own image, Astarion… Only doing what you most desire.”

“Oh, perhaps you’ve forgotten after all these centuries,” his touch suddenly wandered over her collarbone, caressing in its warmth as it stole around her neck. “If I allowed myself to do as I desire, you wouldn’t be in some dungeon dangling from chains, covered in grime or clothing even…”

That got her hissing in her breath and pulling at her chains. “You had your fun with my body before I realized how much you deceived me, Ast…” she shut her mouth, almost clipping her own tongue.

The Vampire cackled, low in his chest, a sound so foreign even to himself. “What’s the matter, Tav? Can’t bring yourself to mention my name?” He kept laughing at that low pitch and staccato tempo. He drew up behind her body instead, a fist in her hair to pull that gorgeous neck to the side so he could hiss right in her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you cry it from your lips again as you used to?”

She crammed her jaw shut, tugging her hardest to break from his ironclad hold. A warm, wet tongue lapped up the direction of her artery, and her body shivered, even as her face contorted with disgust. “You have power over the whole world now… all because you lost power over the one thing you wanted more.”

“And what was that, darling?” He hissed against her rapping pulse before dragging his fangs across that alabaster skin.

“Me,” she snipped her reply.

And it just made him give that low, staccato laugh of purest malice. Her words slammed against that darkness in his soul, but he ignored it. Yanking her head back, he made those piercing eyes look into his wicked smirk. “Oh, my delusional darling…” he tutted his tongue, chastising her like a naughty little schoolgirl. “Let me show you the extent of my power, and you tell me if you think it’s truly an equal replacement for you.”

A snap of his fingers, a spell muttered under his breath, and they vanished into thin air.

Winds raced around them, no more than mist, hot and cold, racing through light and dark until he stopped at the top of his grand tower. Tav gasped as her body reformed, freed of her shackles, but crouching on hands and knees as she tried to catch her breath. He stood over her, crowding her so closely, the edges of his scarlet cape fluttered in her face. The hot winds whipped around them both on the parapet, stinking of volcanic sulfur and blood… and she tried not to gag. Panting, it took all her effort to keep her stomach from hurling. And then, his hand slipped into view, offering her aid to get to her feet.

A breathless, disparaging laugh managed it way out from her burning lungs. A sound he did not take kindly to. That pale hand slipped almost invisibly into her hair, yanking her to her feet. “As much as I love the sight of you crumpled and kneeling at my feet, there is something I wish you to see…” he growled.

His other hand framed her chin, forcing her to survey his lands, the shroud of his darkness extending as far as the eye could see. And her eyes flared wide. Not one beam of sun pierced his cover of darkness, not one tree grew in the mud slicks and shadowed city that spanned his domain. All was black and scarlet and golden, refracting the fires of a million torches and bonfires and the fire mountains themselves that burned in the distance.

“Tell me it’s not awe inspiring, the magnitude of my power. Hordes of dragons at my command, legions of spawn and soldiers, an army worthy of the Ascendant…. There is no realm I cannot take, no land I cannot claim under my rule.”

He released her hair, her face, drawing back step to survey her reaction. “And it could have all been yours too…” he sneered. “Tch, what a waste.” Those crimson eyes scanned her body, her frame shaking and weak, her skin dirtied and scratched from his warriors’ rough handling. “How far you have fallen, Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Instead of this.. weak being you are now, I would have made you my queen, my own vampiric bride, with all the right to rule and command at my side.”

“All I see is desperation, Astarion. A man so insistent on chasing power and domination he denied himself two things he loved most.” Tav leveled her clear and shining eyes at him. “Freedom… and sunlight.”

She heard his fangs snap, a growl in his throat.

She continued, “And why would I choose to be with someone so desperate for power, he turns his beautifully scarred back on burning that which made him… happy…” Breath froze in her lungs, she could feel it. That creeping, ancient longing that never quite disappeared over centuries. That haunting that still plagued her mind and heart of times that were simpler and loving.

Times brimming with freedom and sunlight.

He bristled, pulling her roughly to spin, to land against his chest. “I’ll just ignore the fact that you still think of the scars on my body…” he sniggered. “I’ll take it to heart you once cared for my happiness… and not that you probably still touch yourself to the memory of my skin on your skin, the feeling of those scars under your nails as I fucked you…”

Her muscles frame thrashed to be free, to loosen the bonds of his arms around her waist. “I do no such thing…” she hissed. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something so heinous.”

“Yes… I am heinous, fucking me would be totally… heinous…” he snarled the word into her esr, the heat of his breath bathing her skin hotter than the volcanic blasts in the distance. “Fortunately, I still remember the heroine who once was more than willing to do such… heinous things… I wonder if those same things would make her skin crawl now.”

His lips caressed her neck, making her shudder in hatred and fight to breathe. “Let me go,” she hissed and thrashed. “Monster… villain…”

Fists locked around her upper arms like a vice. “Oh, you always knew just how to talk so sweetly to me, darling.” With that, he held her firm, like irons and tighter than chains. “You really do hate me, don’t you?” He hissed, gripping her chin and bringing her lips just to the precipice of his own. “And here I was, ready to offer you one more chance to be mine, my own consort… my right—“

Her lips pressed hard against his, all hatred and teeth and heat on her tongue as she closed that hair's width of a distance. Choking her with his tongue, Astarion couldn’t get enough of that taste. Centuries of deprivation, she clearly craved it too. Her hands struggled beneath his grip, a grip he eased once he realized she was removing his armor, piece by godsdamned piece. He would help if he wasn’t too suspicious.

But his need and desire considered those centuries of command and restraint. He pulled off plate after plate too until there were none left. Then, he took the rest of that feeble linen of her shirt in his fists and tore it full open.

Her flesh was bruised and scarred, centuries of fighting had hardened her, marking her with her own brand of dark obsession. Glancing down at Tav, he broke away from their kiss, both of them wild and panting. For an instant, she looked so soft in the glow of his domain. That dead ember in his core wavered with a hint of life, that longing and vulnerable need… but he snuffed it out. Shoving her hard and fast with all his vampiric speed until her back hit the outer wall of his grand tower.

That same softness was gone behind her eye too. Teeth bared, she gripped his cock painfully hard through his leathers. “Same old spawn. So easy to still reduce you to nothing but whimpering need,” she hissed.

“Enough,” he ordered, hands pulling her torn breeches to shreds until he sank his fingers inside her folds with a satisfied groan. If he closed his eyes, it could have been a tree in the middle of a secret grove that he shoved her against, but he kept his eyes wide open, watching the looks of hate and lust and agony bloom on her sullied face. He watched her head get thrown back against the wall of his fortress, watched her cheeks burst into a deep scarlet blush from desire and shame.

“Fuck… you,” she gave a feral hiss as he freed his cock and sank it inside her one last time. Her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, and he showed no mercy, biting the air in his jaws as he fucked her.

Her head bangged against the stone walls, her back scratched against the rough black stone; it made her whimper, her voice such sweet music to his pointy ears as he rammed home deep inside her. Her hands clawed at his hair, yanking it at its roots to keep his fangs off her. It only made him chuckle low and villainous in his throat. As if she could stop him from biting. “Just couldn’t get enough of our late night trysts, could you, darling? Just couldn’t stay away from seeing my power? Now,” he hissed with venom in his voice, “now… I have… everything I wanted.” He gave a particularly brutal snap of his hips, making her clutch his body and scream in his ear. “Companionship and a little death…”

Tav laughed—laughed—-full throated and musical as he rode her into the wall. Astarion sneered, raising his head to look into those pricing determined eyes. “This is your everything… this?” she rasped, growing breathless with her own pleasure.

Strong, skilled fingers slipped between their bodies so he could claw and squeeze her breast. “Yes, this. My kingdom, my power, my enemy laid low… or just laid.”

She snared at the barb, every muscle in her body shuddering in consuming, blinding pleasure as she came. Her body had already given her away, though, she panted and moaned, her hands hugging at his neck instead of throttling or yanking.

If he only just closed his eyes… he could feel it again. Feel it too.

With a grunt, he shuddered, biting into his own arm so as not to pierce his skin, to give her that poison of his power and his venom to turn her into his. Not yet. Not until she was begging for more, for more of this, of him. Finally, his heart slowed, the pounding inside his head grew gentler. And he kissed her sooty cheek. “I’ve missed this…” he let the words that had reverberated in his mind since he laid eyes on her again out from his lips.

Pulling away, he gave a little smile, the kind where just his lips turn, equally and softly. The kind of smile he had given her centuries ago in his tent, on the road, before all… this. Turning his back, he looked out over his lands, tucking his cock back inside his trousers, savoring that scent of their coupling, faint as it was over the stench of volcanic air. He took a deep breath, that smile creeping across his face wider. “You know, darling, I—” He turned sharply, his hand twisting in a flourish….

Something long and sharp and metal sank into his chest. Tav’s eyes were wide, her hand firmly gripped on that long metal weapon. A stake. Summoned by magic, must have been.

“I…” she faltered, watching the lights in his eyes flicker, that haunting crimson glow starting to dim back to the dull and deep red she had once fallen in love with.

“You think I haven’t been staked before,” he gave an effort to laugh, that deep and sinister chuckle, but now it ended in a burst of coughing. Crumbling, he sank to the stone floor of the wall.

Two arms caught him, holding him on her knees as his body registered the pain in his chest. The numbness. Tav looked down at him, her face hard but not unfeeling.

Something warm and wet slipped from his lips. His fingers trembled as he touched it, pulling them away, their pale tips covered in blood. “You always knew how to make such grand gestures of love, darling, especially after such a rigorous… reunion.” He gave her body another long scan, her chest heaving and her skin blushing with emotion and exertion.

A bitter smile turned one corner of her mouth. “How else was I going to get you out of your armor, Astarion, aside from sex. You haven’t changed all that much.” She twisted the metal in his chest a bit deeper, blood soaking to the stones beneath them. “You may have burned the world, Astarion, but you burned my heart to ashes first. You called me unworthy, an ingrate, a waste and disappointment…” Her face leaned in closer to his. “You said I would regret leaving you more than anything I lived to regret when in reality… I only regret not coming for you sooner.”

“I said many things, including that the greatest crimes in this world are committed for love…” he tried to sweep in arm to gesture to his domain. But he hissed in agony. “I lied before, you know… I did this for you, to sate my hunger for you, to replace my lust for you with bloodlust for the world.”

“What…” Tav replied, taken aback. Her voice sounded eerily similar to words that still haunted her from their past. “Why? Why would you ever speak of… love?” she sneered.

“Because, I never stopped loving you… whatever version of love this dark and beating heart is capable of, that is…” he burst into another fit of coughing. His hand tried to grip the metal in his chest, even as his legs began to grow numb. He knew, as he brushed his fingers against it, this was no ordinary stake. But he was the Vampire Ascendant, even magic had its limits…. Surely.

He reached a hand for her trembling cheek. “Nothing is too late you know, not when a being like me… like you… can have eternity.” He sighed, feeling her warm, wet tears starting to leak from her clear eyes. Gently, he dried them with a soft sweep of his thumb as she leaned into his touch. The first time in centuries. Since his Ascension. “Stay. Be mine,” he whispered, voice thick with gravely need and wet with pain. Blood dripped from his chin.

“I’ll never be your spawn,” she looked down to the space between their bodies, both their chests heaving.

“Queen then,” his hand shook as she held her cheek tighter, trying to pull those quivering lips to his. “Think of how much fun it would be, darling. You can try to kill me every day…” he smirked weakly, “why not a little more death, everyday.”

She gave him a cold smile, watching as he noticed how his hand shook, the taste of blood thickening in his mouth. “I’m afraid I’ll only ever need this one attempt to kill you, Astarion.”

Those eyes forced themselves wider, the metal in his chest thrumming with magic.

“Infernal silver, a gift from our old friend Raphael,” Tav’s lips turned down, her eyes unable to meet his again, even as her tears flowed freely now.

He gave a laugh, a bit more blood coming down his chin. “That must have cost you more than a pretty piece of gold, darling.”

“My soul,” she jutted her chin out. “You’re not the only one to take a deal with a devil.”

He laughed, much weaker now. “Then this is it… you did it, my darling. And I have one last chance to ask you for a chance to talk…” He smirked, pulling her lips against hers just to feel her breath. “I just feel… awful. Nothing about this was simple or easy or meant to be, but I wish it was with all that’s left of my heart.” He winced, a wrack of pain shaking his body as he laid on her lap. “All I had to do was forget just how deeply I had fallen for you…”

He groaned as the pain grew too much. Only to feel her hand on his face now, her warmth steadying him, focusing him. “Which is where your dark and sinister plan fell apart, hmm?” She placed a kiss on his lips as they grew pale. “Same for me… I… I wish I didn’t come. I wish you had told me of your love before I…”

She choked on the words, readying her fist to pull the stake out. But he stopped her. “No leave it,” he ordered. “It will buy us a few more precious moments so I don’t simply bleed out all over your beautiful legs.”

Tav wished she could laugh, wished she had done things differently. “Now I don’t deserve any of these words, Astarion…” she let a sob escape from her lungs. “I have given you nothing…”

“No,” Astarion interrupted with a sudden and frantic burst of strength. “I am nothing without you… I never have been, darling. Even with power and realms on their knees. I only ever… ever wanted you. You… complete me.” The smile on her face was balm to his mortally wounded soul—a soul that would soon end up in the hells for all he had done. But for now, he would bask in the heavens of her arms and sun himself in the light of her smile. “I would have been worthy of you… or at least tried harder to be.”

Tav watched as her tears fell on his own pale face, his skin growing corpse-cold slowly but surely the longer she held him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She began to choke on the slick of tears in her throat. “Why didn’t you say.. something when you first saw me?”

“Because all you saw… all you knew was the monster you believed me to be. And so… that’s what I was for you. You wouldn’t have listened to words of love from a monster. At best I thought you’d say no again. More likely…” he hissed, holding the silver stake in his chest, “you’d run… a stake through my ribs…”

Tav gave a single, tear-soaked laugh, “You… foolish vampire.”

“You leaving me was… the thing I regret… more than any other thing I lived to regret…” A piercing cry, from his slacked mouth and he pulled the stake from his chest, blood gushing and flesh rending, wet and gory. “Looks like… I won’t be living to regret it for much longer…”

The ground shook, the wavering orange light in the distance from the volcanos began to burst brighter. Erupting with blistering heat, rocks and ash spewed into the air. And yet, above them, the shadows parted, the faintest beams of light from the sun began to seep through the cover of darkness.

The power of the Ascendant faltered as his breathing grew shorter, as his heart began to slow.

“I can’t, Astarion,” Tav held him tighter. “I can’t live with this regret now either.” Her chin shuddered as she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have killed you.”

“You should have,” he smiled weakly. “You gave me back what I denied myself… freedom and sunshine…” He looked up into the streaks of pale blue and golden beams that crept through more and more. “And you gave me that feeling of love once more…”

He pulled her face against his, his hand and lips cold once more against her skin. “This is a gift, I won’t forget it.” He began to close his eyes.

“Wait,” she shook him, clinging tightly so as not to let go. As if she could keep his soul bound to his bones. “Take me too. Poison me. Bite me.”

“Why?” Was all he could manage to croak.

“I’m bound for the hells too.” That silver stake in the blood beside them was more than enough damnation for her, too.

He gave a single, feeble laugh. “I was going to go this alone… but…” he hissed as the pain began to take him. “Come here then, darling.”

She placed her neck against his lips, those ancient scars from his fangs still tangible against his tongue as he licked her first. As he always had done. With one final grunt, he bit, letting his poison fill her veins as he managed a mouthful of her blood.

Rich and intoxicating, familiar and simply the best. The stuff of his dreams and nightmares. His world dimmed, his body too numb to taste her anymore. He took one last breath, gave her one last smirk. “You’ve never tasted so sweet… darli—“

He was gone, limp in her arms.

Not that Tav noticed, her own body numb and limp as she lost herself to the poison in her veins.

The earth cracked open, the clouds dispersed, and centuries of darkness and blood turned to mist in the light of the sun once more.

Light and sun and wind felt good on his essence as Astarion’s soul bound for the hells, ready to pay its price of 7000 for centuries of empty power and loneliness. But as his spirit flew, it tingled with recognition… the touch of another soul tangling with it.

One that knew him, that reverberated with pain and loss, with affection and connection—soul to soul.

No longer left in darkness as embers.

A spark of love that had laid dormant between them flamed back tenfold, as these souls streaked across the sky to their fates. Together.

Author’s Note: IM SORRY!! Sometimes you just need to purge the angst as a writer. Write some hate fuck and have a good cry

The next one will be toothrotting fluff to overcompensate 💞💞💞

Out of curiosity: scale of 1-5 🗡️, how badly did it hurt?

#ascended astarion #astarion angst #tragedy #major character death #Tav x ascended astarion #ascended Astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic

[brain-rot-central]

Thinking of how to approach the discussion of dhampirs between Tav and AA.

My brain came up with a whole story AA can tell her about Cazador having fallen in love with a young mortal woman (maybe like 22?) from a cabaret he frequented; she gets pregnant, he moves her into the manor but she ends up dying in childbirth and the child is stillborn (most dhampirs are in DnD lore). Cazador tries turning her in an effort to save her but her heart stops right before his fangs pierce her neck. That's the only time Astarion ever felt compassion for Cazador since he wailed for hours after she died. Cazador never took another mortal lover that he didn't plan on turning immediately after that, and his abuse toward the spawn only got worse in his grief.

The young woman and their child are laid to rest in the dungeon crypt off to the side in one of the rooms you can't access in-game, but AA finds them after taking over the manor.

My fucking brain when I'm stressed out is a fucking creative minefield, I s2g

#death mention #ascended astarion #headcanon #fic writing #I'm sorry for this but jfc #angst #abuse mention

[softichill]

You put sans jevil and spamton in a room who makes it out alive?

PS: spamton does get [[Power Of Neo]]

(My own reasoning in the tags)

#ask #undertale #sans #deltarune #jevil #spamton #poll #polls #I WAS just gonna respond with my own thoughts but I wanna know what y'all think #*cracks knuckles* okay SO #It would take a lot to get Sans to actively fight either of these guys to the death. Sans mainly operates by rule of funny #and his fight is only hard because he's decided that you should die over and over again in the hopes of getting you to give up #Jevil and Spamton meanwhile are very earnest and volatile. Jevil knows the world is a game and believes that nothing matters. #Spamton is desperate to ascend and become part of the real world. He will do anything. Absolutely anything. #Though it's because of that desperation that I think Spamton will lose first #This is mainly going by the fact that Spamton's fight (to me) is the easiest out of the three and the main appeal is the story you get #Rather than Jevil where the appeal is that it's weird and fun to play and Sans that it's ridiculously hard and hard-hitting (emotionally) #Sans would only start to fight Jevil out of reluctance and he wouldn't really care about winning and Jevil is just here to have violent fun #Which means that Jevil wins

[writeshite]

i gnaw at my enclosure everytime you post.

I NEED TO BE FEEEEDDDD AAAAA

— [can i be] 🌎 anon [?]

“You’ve hardly changed.”

Astarion turns in surprise at the sound of your voice; it had been some years since he’d last seen you. He practically beams when he notices you, draping himself over you in glee, though it never quite reaches his eyes.

“And you’ve changed a lot. Did you miss me?” Astarion caresses your cheek, and you resist the urge to lean into the touch like so long ago. Instead, you slap his hand away and hold it far from your face.

“I’m not here for you, Astarion; I was called to Baldur’s Gate to deal with a rogue dryad.” You see the glee vanish and be instantly replaced by anger and jealousy.

“I did not ask what brought you here, I asked if you missed me,” Astarion states.

The ascension had twisted everything inside him, your attention was his and his alone, but unlike before where he’d mock pout, now he’d murder the person that stole your attention.

“I don’t have time for you Astarion,” you brush him aside, and his face darkens.

“Well, make time; I don’t like being ignored.” He reminds you, “Are you with someone? Did you replace me with some warm body to fuck?”

Your lack of response irritates him and lack of engagement in a conversation only prompts Astarion to follow you.

#shitedrabbles #it’s 2am and Ascended Astarion has been on my mind. is he possessive? yes. am I delulu? always 🤡 #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x male reader #astarion x male reader #we’re going to pretend there’s a circle of death for Druids because idk if tieflings actually live that long and it’s 2am #tiefling reader #druid reader #they’re exes your honor 💀 #brought to you by Grammarly and 2am gay thoughts #🌎 anon

[mvffinhamster]

do i have to say anything or you see what i see?

#eyes so blue i want to die #blue eyes bronze curls??? yeah #i hear the angels singing #i am ascending #his fucking eyes will be the death of me #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle

[midnight-skylie]

If I had a nickel for every time Jeremy Jordan played a tragic character that started wanting to change society for the better and tried to be revolutionist, but fell too far,

Had a villain arc derived from their oppression, ended up making deals with bad people to solve their problems creating more damage they were against in the past, lost their mental health in the process,

And it was a musical-

I would have 3 nickles. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened 3 times.

#varian tangled #lucifer hazbin hotel #light death note musical #lucifer allowed the extermination to happen #he tried to fight for humans but made the deal with heaven to exterminate them #he eventually fought for them but still #varian ascended into villainhood because he wanted to save his dad #ended up with bad people causing more damage to other people #light just wanted justice and fight against oppression #but lost himself in the process and took things too far and enjoyed playing god #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #death note musical #hazbin hotel #tangled the series #tangled #light death note