#( named for the dawn ; aurora )

[oddberryshortcake]

It’s really poetically sad that no one will ever know Silver’s bio name. Everyone who knew it is long dead.

Silver woke up 400 years later completely nameless, but this means he will always be Silver

[mintharan]

I've been burdened with terrible visions. Walk with me.

It struck me how Spawn Astarion with Duke Wyll and Ascended Astarion with Duke Wyll could work as negatives of each other.

For instance, Wyll marries spawn Astarion, they are so happy everyone around them gets hit with the fallout. Wyll singlehandedly makes nightly soirees a thing. "I just think parties should happen at night, there's no point in holding any kind of grand event during the day if you really think about it." Just so Astarion can attend and be the centre of attention and speculation.

Everyone wonders about the Duke's mysterious husband who never goes out during the day. Rumours abound. "I hear Duke Ravengard is extremely jealous and doesn't let his husband out of his sight, locks him up inside the house so none may gaze upon him." "Nonsense, I hear the man is actually a pale drow and the sun hurts his eyes." "More nonsense, I hear he's an insufferable prick who thinks everyone is beneath him and only comes out at night because the sun makes other people's flaws too apparent."

You get the gist of it. Astarion delights in having all these rumours about himself, and tells Wyll to stop trying to dispel them. "Darling, the people of Baldur's Gate get bored easily, let them speculate, it's better than starting yet another cult." They adopt Lily Aurora, who Astarion raises to be a menace. Wyll thinks she's just darling even as people look in horror as she attempts to chew the furniture.

It's all very sweet, despite Astarion's occasional maudlin periods about not being able to go out into the sun.

Now, Ascended Astarion and Duke Wyll get exactly the same story, except no one's happy about it.

This works best imo if they were together before Astarion's ascension and then Wyll broke it off. In this case he'd choose to become a Duke out of an extreme sense of duty to protect the people of Baldur's Gate from the monster Astarion had become.

They would orbit each other constantly, Wyll reminding Astarion that he couldn't go too far without consequence and Astarion testing the limits of Wyll's feelings for him (the love was still there, just twisted).

Eventually the loneliness gets to them both, but mostly to Wyll, who can never get over Astarion, and in a moment of weakness gives in. It feels like a victory to Astarion at first, but like everything else about Ascension he soon realizes it's hollow.

Wyll isn't happy about compromising his morals, even if it's for love, and he despairs in not recognizing the man he fell for in Astarion. Wyll tries to end it many times, but Astarion has him wrapped around his finger, with sex, but mostly with the mimicry of the romance they enjoyed during their early courtship.

Astarion fears one day he'll leave him for good and that he'll be alone. Again. Haunting the halls of his former prison with only his memories for company.

So he brings Lily home, and at first Wyll is horrified but soon he finds comfort in the child's presence. He stays home for longer periods of time. Less 'Duke' duties take him away from Astarion. He's a fucking genius, he solved it.

Except it's obvious Wyll loves the child more than he loves Astarion. He takes to being a father like a duck to water, and while he's home more often all his time is spent with their daughter. His daughter really, he seems to think Astarion will be a bad influence on Lily if he as much as breathes near her.

So his grand plan backfired and now he's so jealous he can barely see straight. He wishes he could take back the damn girl and return her to the Ilmater priests.

But then he remembers. Cazador had made good use of a father's love for his daughter when he made Leon do everything he wanted to keep Violet safe.

Astarion starts doing the same, manipulating Wyll with veiled threats to Lily's life. Wyll knows exactly what he's doing, but he's powerless to do anything. Astarion got the child on his own, they're not married, Wyll has no rights to her.

But he could have, Astarion reminds him. Dangling the promise like a noose. If he agreed to become Astarion's consort, he could have everything.

"Have I not been made into enough of a monster?"

"Darling, at least we'd be monsters together."

It all comes to a head when Astarion threatens to turn Lily instead. "Think about it, she'd be your sweet child forever. She'll never grow up to blame you for anything."

Wyll gives in, allows Astarion to turn him and becomes his consort. They get married, it's a grand event, with the whole city in attendance.

Astarion is triumphant, Wyll is resigned. He becomes more accommodating to Astarion's whims, and Astarion wonders if that's the result of his influence over him through their bond, or Wyll finally accepting the love he can give him.

It kills him that he'll never know.

Astarion has everything he ever wanted, he just wishes he could be happy about it. Wyll still dreams about the shy kisses they traded on an empty beach with only the moon for a witness. Another life.

[eos-dazzle]

TW// Gender dysphoria

just a poem I wrote the other day while bored at my grandma's house

Aurora

Everyday he walks in the shade

Broad shoulders, deep voice

Loved, praised, brown eyes

Whole existence is a falsehood

An impossible to defy falsehood

He wants not the blue shell

But he is happy wearing it

But he thinks he is happy wearing it

The Star of Dawn

Eos, my shining light

Everyday she walks alongside him

Her light darkened by his shell

His loved, accepted shell

Let his shell break

Let her be free

For they are one and the same

For when the shade of him fades

Aurora remains

[l0nglives]

buffy's full name was supposed to be elizabeth & on her original birth certificate , it is : elizabeth anne summers , after hank's mother. joyce hated hank's mother. so the nineteen year old new mother , without hank knowing , changed the name from elizabeth to buffy , the nickname they both agreed on. in a way her full name is elizabeth , but also in a way her full name is buffy. buffy , herself , doesn't really recognize it & doesn't really care since she's always been buffy since she could remember.

[bebemoon]

look for the name: AURORA

simone rocha neutral tiered tulle midi dress 

stonehart jewelry “holier than thou” cross necklace

dolce & gabbana jeweled metal micro bag w/ body chain

tory burch “sublime rose” eau de parfum

alexander mcqueen punk stud leather high-heel sandal in rose gold

[littlefoxgw2]

my brain: but new characters need a story and a purpose and a reason for taking up space and--

me: hgngnhghg salad pretty...

[futurelabs]

guys listen here 🫵

Sonny & Aurora Montero.

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

the sheer amount of excitement people have shown over me potentially writing out eryns story and such is has just been so shdhdgajkkejf??? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[highflyartist]

AGH!

MY BRAIN!!

WHY DOES IT KEEP CHANGING THE PROTAGONIST'S NAME!! FAAAAAAAAAC-

--

For Context:

I am rewatching Disney films. Mostly the ones from 1939 - 1990. And I was wondering to myself: "What if Annabella was named after a Disney Princess?"

I was that stupid to look up names and watch disney films for a singular protagonist. But I ended up renaming Annabella Levoy Carter as Aurora Dawn Carter (or Annie for short).

Annabella will now be the name that Elizabeth (Who is now a Duchess) and William (now the Royal Astronomer) will call her when they live in Hawaii.

The backstory about Annie's fate of being cursed will remain the same, just wanted to let you guys know about the name change.

[sunhealings]

A daughter was born, and they called her Aurora. Yes, they named her after the dawn, for she filled their lives with sunshine.

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

[crystalcerberus]

Genshin Impact Diluc x Fem!Reader - Pregnancy, birth, and postpartum

Getting pregnant from Diluc would be such a win

With Diluc's immense wealth, he could afford you the best prenatal and postnatal care, ensuring access to top medical professionals and cutting-edge treatments.

Staying at the Dawn Winery would offer you a stress-free and comfortable environment, perfect for nurturing your health and the baby’s development.

The maids and other staff at the winery would always be ready to assist, taking care of household chores so you can focus on your well-being and enjoy a stress-free pregnancy and postpartum period.

Of course, this includes access to the best food, ensuring a nutritious and balanced diet essential for a healthy pregnancy, successful postpartum healing, and of course for breastfeeding.

Diluc’s protective nature would provide you with a sense of security, knowing that both you and the baby are safe at all times. (Obstetric violence during labor? – "Time for retribution!!!")

Diluc's pyro powers would come in useful, too, such as for keeping the birthing pool at the perfect temperature or using his hands as heating pads to soothe aches and pains.

The only "dawnside" of it: in keeping with the family tradition, you'd have to give your little one a name that means "dawn." Maybe "Aurora" for a girl then?

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Intermediate Pack — 16 Longfic Recs

As a follow-up to the Tomarrymort starter pack rec list, I put together a list of Intermediate Reads that are best enjoyed with a bit of context about the ship. If you’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a while, or have read everything in the starter pack, this next set of recs is for you. 

These recs feature a sampling of different authors than the first list, with an emphasis on underrated fic that I think deserve more recognition (hard to define, but for the most part, I tried to find fics with fewer than 2000 kudos). So I hope that even for the readers who’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a long time, there’s something new in here to discover.

This is Part 2 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1, and Part 3 will be an Advanced reading list that will feature works of a more challenging nature). In the meantime, please enjoy these additional 1.8 million words of wonderful Tomarrymort fic.

*

Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 136k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years.  Why I rec it: A haunting psychological horror where the truth slowly creeps up on Harry that his domestic life with his devoted partner Gaunt is not as idyllic as it initially appears. The twisting, unhinged depths of Voldemort’s obsession in this fic are so beautifully portrayed. There were chills that ran down my spine as Harry starts to get his memories back and the mystery of what happened starts to unravel. I love the pacing in this fic — there’s no one big reveal; it’s a slowly unfolding sequence that gets delightfully darker and more fucked-up as the fic progresses.

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes (E, 66k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Tom Riddle appears in London the morning of Voldemort’s defeat, with the last thing he remembers from 1944, and quickly realizes that Harry Potter is the key to all the answers that he’s looking for.  Why I rec it: A light-hearted take on the identity porn trope, full of playful banter and delightfully charged chemistry between Harry and Tom. It’s usually Harry who’s thrown back through time, so it’s fun to see Tom scramble to figure out what’s going on when he’s pulled forward into Harry’s time. It’s also fun to see Harry try every avenue to prove that this mysterious new Tom is the Tom Riddle, even as he ends up hitting dead ends, and subsequently falls so deep into his obsessive tendencies that he refuses to let Tom out of his sight.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry after the final battle and decides to break him — not with torture, but with pleasure and softness. Why I rec it: The soft, creepy non-con in here is so memorable and excellent! Voldemort takes a different approach to breaking in his horcrux than what we usually see, and this particular approach leads to such delicious and hot smut scenes between them wherein Harry utterly succumbs to all the softly pleasurable attentions. I can never get enough of darkly twisted captive Harry stories and all the ways that Voldemort keeps Harry isolated and utterly reliant on him. I gasped out loud at the part where Voldemort made it so that Harry can only speak Parseltongue — this exactly the kind of fucked-up content that is so perfect and fitting for this ship.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry returns to Hogwarts after the war for eighth year, and he’s the only person in the castle who can see and talk to the ghost of Tom Riddle.  Why I rec it: This fic completely destroyed me. The story unfolds in such a poignant and haunting way — it feels like the most natural thing for Harry to feel such a strong connection with Tom and fall in love with him as the year progresses. The angst in here is so delicately layered and beautifully portrayed — Harry’s feelings are muddled with a growing hope that Tom doesn’t have to move on to the afterlife and the desperation that he feels when he realizes they’re running out of time — such that the emotional beats will end up resonating for a long time after you’ve finished reading this fic.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 124k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If a series of gruesome murders 10 years after the war has Harry and the rest of the Aurors completely stumped, and Harry figures out how to bring Voldemort back from beyond the Veil in exchange for his help in solving the murders.  Why I rec it: This is a spectacular and richly layered murder mystery featuring incredibly complex character dynamics and gorgeously lavish prose. I am blown away at the sophistication of the storytelling here — we get to delve into Voldemort’s past and so many hidden layers of his character, as well as how Harry has been handling the ‘picture-perfect’ life he’s always wanted after the war (in short: not well) — and in between, following all the clues and disparate threads of a mysterious serial killer case that could be its own standalone casefic! One of the most impressively sweeping pieces of writing I’ve seen in this ship, and there isn’t an element of this fic that I don’t absolutely adore.

Perfect Places by @skaelds (NR, 72k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort dies in the Final Battle, and then wakes up in a strange house with no one but Harry Potter for company, and there is no way for either of them to get out. Why I rec it: I absolutely love the trapped-in-a-room trope, and how Voldemort and Harry have to work out their differences if they want to have any hope of getting out. I adore that the entire fic is told from Voldemort POV — his arrogance and his malevolence and his rage and the utter force of his emotions are so palpable. The emotional journey in this fic is so intense from beginning to end, as they eventually come around to an understanding about each other and figure out a way out.

Promises, Promises (part 1) / Dreams in the Dark (part 2) by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is accidentally thrown back in time to Tom’s 6th year, and then suffers a bout of amnesia from a memory-loss spell and can’t remember anything about Tom Riddle or why he spent all semester trying to avoid him.  Why I rec it: A brilliant fast burn featuring amnesia trope and tons of delicious dubcon. Tom is at his manipulative peak here, as he tries every underhanded technique to first figure out exactly what is going on with that new transfer student Harry Evans, and then when he’s figured it out, doing everything he can to keep Harry within his grasp. I cannot say enough about how hot the smut is throughout this 2-part series — so many layers of dubcon and manipulation that blew me away at every turn.

Sunspots by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 249k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry grows up in the muggle world without realizing he has magic, but he suspects there’s a bigger world out there because he’s had recurring dreams featuring Tom’s horcruxes his entire life.  Why I rec it: One of the most unique takes on a book 1 rewrite that I’ve ever seen. First of all, the characters are aged up to college-age, and since Hogwarts starts at 18 here rather than at 11, there’s a lot of character dynamics that are possible to explore with older characters that aren’t possible with 11-year-olds. Secondly, Harry has access to each of Tom’s horcruxes through a magical dreamscape dimension he can access in his sleep, and he has unique and distinct relationships with each of them, including (the main) Voldemort, so there’s a lot of fascinating and multi-faceted Harry and Tom dynamics. Also, the descriptions of magic in this fic are just stunning; it’s clear that a lot of thought went into the magical worldbuilding here that makes you feel as excited and awestruck by the concept of magic as reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 69k, WIP)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s)  Premise: If Harry is sent back to the 1940s, just after Tom Riddle has graduated from Hogwarts, on a mission to stop Tom becoming Voldemort and imperiling the world of magic. Why I rec it: I love the mutually obsessive chemistry here as Harry and Tom quickly fall into each other’s thrall as their relationship heats up. The writing style is so poetic and beautiful, and I find myself rereading many sentences over again just to fully absorb the impact and beauty of @noumena-writes’ words. Even as Harry becomes increasingly entwined with Tom, he’s never blind to who Tom is, and he’s able to strike back with just as much viciousness — their relationship dynamics are so very intense and suspenseful, and the latest plot twist had me completely floored.

The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by @relic--crown (T, 223k, complete)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are pulled into an alternate reality where Voldemort never existed and Harry’s parents are still alive.  Why I rec it: The richness of the magical worldbuilding in this fic blew me away — there’s a whole system of magic explored here that goes deeper and is far more brilliant and sweeping than what is covered in canon. The relationship between Harry and Tom develops in such an organic, lovely way, and it was fascinating to see all the changes in this parallel universe where Harry’s parents live and what Harry’s life could have been like, were there no Voldemort. Also, the plot! This fic was so intricately plotted that it felt like reading multiple books with a complex, epic plot spanning fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts, ending in a grand showdown like in the original book series, but with a surprising twist.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel Fix-It Premise: If Harry and Voldemort find themselves trapped in a strange cycle of reincarnations where they visit different points in time in Voldemort’s past.  Why I rec it: A very cool take on a time-travel fix-it. Instead of traveling back to a fixed point in time, Harry and Voldemort are thrown back to various points of Voldemort’s past and relive life through certain people significant to shaping Voldemort into who he eventually becomes. The time travel theory in here is amongst the most complex that I’ve encountered — I love the concept that time is a river where multiple timelines and divergent events end up converging, rather than branching off and creating a bunch of alternate universes. I also love how organically the growing relationship between Voldemort and Harry unfolds as they progress through each cycle and gradually start to develop trust in one another and care and attraction for each other.

These steep woods and lofty cliffs by Rimeme (M, 76k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry runs away to America after Sirius’s death and disguises himself in the Muggle world for many years before getting discovered by MACUSA and offered a job with the magical government. Years later, he is recruited back to Britain to work for the Ministry, under none other than Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt himself.  Why I rec it: A thoroughly enjoyable read from beginning to end — I devoured this fic in one sitting. Harry makes an extremely rational decision here — why not run off from the war if Voldemort is trying to kill everyone you love? But then, when he comes back undercover 15 years later, things don’t quite seem to add up. Britain doesn’t seem like it’s been taken over by a genocidal Dark Lord, but there’s something nefarious simmering under the surface. Voldemort as a very rational Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt is a delight here, with his seemingly very reasonable focus on progressing wizarding society. It was fun to follow along as Harry slowly starts to put the pieces together, and I love how relentlessly Voldemort pursues and seduces Harry in this fic, until he's utterly unable to resist his attraction to a Voldemort who seems to have turned over a new leaf.

These Violent Delights by @heirofdragons (M, 55k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry, Ron, and Hermione accidentally find themselves thrown back in time to the late 1940s, four years after Tom has graduated Hogwarts and is working at Borgin and Burkes.  Why I rec it: A highly entertaining time travel fic with Harry stumbling back in time to find Tom Riddle in the full dregs of his Retail Hell years post-Hogwarts. Their chemistry is delightfully charming as they prod at each other and do everything to get under each other’s skin (including attempted murder), while growing undeniably attracted to each other. They simply can’t stay away from each other, despite Harry knowing who Tom turns out to be, and Tom knowing that Harry is the one who destroys all his Horcruxes and ends up defeating him in the future.

Three Turns Should Do It by @vdoshu (M, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time after an accident with the Time Turner in 3rd year, and ends up as a disembodied voice in Tom’s head from the time that Tom is 11. Why I rec it: I absolutely love Tom growing up alongside Harry who is a kind of caretaker presence in his mind, helping make his days a little bit less lonely and helping him navigate the unfortunate circumstances he’s thrown in. This is probably the most extensively researched WW2 era story I’ve ever read; at times I felt like I was learning more detailed history about everyday life during WW2 than I’ve ever read out of a history book. This fic does an amazing job of fleshing out the pivotal events of Tom’s Hogwarts years and showcasing Tom’s humanity, and the bond of mutual trust and love that he and Harry build over the years is so beautifully portrayed. It also does a great job of exploring the question of predestination and whether anyone has the power to change the fate that lies in store for them.

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry gets captured by Voldemort and held as his captive, in a world where Voldemort had won the war sometime before Harry was born, and Harry has been fighting against Voldemort his entire adult life. Why I rec it: The emotions that this fic evokes are so moving and heartfelt. The evolution from Harry as Voldemort’s prisoner to Harry as Voldemort’s trusted advisor unfolds in such a beautiful, unrushed way. Harry is in his early 30s when he’s captured, so he’s older than what we typically see in fics where he’s Voldemort’s prisoner, and his maturity and composure really shine through as he starts working together with Voldemort and trying to exert his influence to improve the fate of the wizarding world. He eventually breaks through Voldemort’s shell, and helps Voldemort to grow in so many ways as the story progresses — particularly in his understanding of love and acceptance of death as a part of life.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 84k, WIP)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and are selected as Hogwarts Champions for an AU version of the Triwizard Tournament that is structured more like the Hunger Games tournament.  Why I rec it: This is a skillfully-written generation mashup featuring an incredibly suspenseful and high-intrigue setting. There’s a dark overhang of dread and anxiety that permeates every character interaction and training session, as we’re informed that most of the champions (8 from each of the 3 schools) will not make it out of the Tournament alive. Yet the chemistry between Harry and Tom builds and builds despite the life-or-death stakes — Harry is immediately attracted to Tom, and Tom admires Harry’s resourcefulness — even while they each realize they may be the death of the other.

*

[world-in-a-nook]

"And upon his name was a crown of jewels, and the brightest was Hope"

character : Aventurine pairing : Aventurine (drunk!Aventurine at the end) x avgin!gn!reader (specified blond hair) ; angst/comfort art : @しかく

synopsis : Aventurine, while sitting in a bar, finds you performing at a bar in Penacony. Surprised to see another Avgin, he watches your dance performance and comes to see you after it. inspiration : dance ; warnings : spoiler for 2.1 (all of the Aventurine's backstory) ; Avgin racism (implied prostitution); alcohol ; petname ( little gem ; darling ;) ; survivor guilt ; might be ooc lore taken from : Signoia, Unclaimed Desolation (I went full on worldbuilder and might have expanded a bit) wc : 3.1k author's note : not my native language

The night had long started inside the bar with drinks passing from hand to hand, chatters getting loud. The cocktail, an Imagined Sunrise, in Aventurine’s hand swirled the sweet colour of sunsets. He was seated in an obscure corner, far from anyone’s gaze. Although his client had long left, he decided to stay anyway to pass time. Why stay in the boring room when you can have fun outside?  His bodyguards would have preferred the former since it meant being less alert but Aventurine wasn’t the type to cooperate especially after a frustrating deal.

Through the rose-tinted glasses, he looked at his surroundings. The bar was crowded like any night of Penacony, people sipping on the dream syrup or on some Soulglad. The chatter filled the room mixing with the clicking of the ice and the music. The coloured bottles shined in the dimlit bar creating drinks. His own was gleaming like some dawn, one that he dreamt so much of. He took a sip before looking at the clock, curious to see if the casino might still be open. His thought process was interrupted by the bar’s owner standing up on the stage:

“Tonight, folks, I’ll present you with an exotic flower from a faraway land. This desert bloom will offer you a performance like none other!”

It was at this point that you appeared on the stage, waiting for the musicians to start. Though Aventurine was already captivated because he could now grasp what the owner meant with “faraway land”. He recognized the patterned clothes, the colourful jewellery and golden hair gracefully swaying with each movement. And when he finally saw your colourful eyes, he felt as if the ground was breaking before him. Each one of your movements seemed like turning his world upside down. He followed the movements of the colourful fabrics, of the golden jewellery. The fabric moving like the wind in the golden dunes, your hair like the rays of gold that warmed his skin. The jewellery chimed together as making a melody on its own. He crossed your gaze through his glasses and couldn’t resist to lean forward in disbelief. Those movements reminded him of the time faraway from now, a time where each shimmering aurora had the warmth of comfort, of home; a time in which he danced with his family and rejoiced in the Kakava festival; a time which felt so far away, yet he yearned for it.

His contemplation continued: how the fabric’s colours and your movements was a wildfire swaying to your liking, each of the golden jewellery was a spark for every new flame, the chiming of it like the crack of the firewood. The dance sending him into a spin of fascination and disbelief. Each step like an acknowledgment of your presence, each beat of the music making him realize that he wasn’t the only one left. The fire continued to dance and show off its movements with the rhythmic music. The drums beating as hard as his heart, the graceful sway of the fabrics leaving him in a daze. With each new melody, he took a sip of his own drink. His head spined with the dance, the alcohol, and your twirls.

Before a stop, the dance ending, and some applauses. Pearls of sweats had appeared on your body completing your jewellery set. You bowed with the applauses and toss of coins, though Aventurine could hear some of many murmurs:

“An Avgin? They’re just some snake, manipulating their charms for money.”

“They’re just trying to find a fool for the night!”

“You know Sigonians, rotten to the core…”

He didn’t care when those insults were about him. He had heard them so many times now that it felt numb, but he wasn’t the target of it, another Avgin was, and it felt so different. Someone like him was insulted. His eyes darted to see your reaction if you would say anything back. Though you had already escaped from his gaze, the only remain of your performance was your faint perfume.

He wanted to follow you through the narrow corridors, through the dazzling streets of Penacony, through each planet, through the desert dunes until that moment where he could go back to that very moment, that impossible moment in which the festival took place in joy. The faint perfume did bring him back to reality after a moment and like the good businessman he was, he knew how to use his tongue. A slight gesture and the owner approached:

“Good evening, Mr. Aventurine. Thank you for choosing our humble establishment!”

“Oh, but I must thank you, my friend, for the atmosphere, the drinks and even the entertainment!”

“Oh, did you like tonight’s beauty? A rare gem…”

How he objectified you felt repulsing, you were a being, not some sort of possession limited to its beauty. Aventurine bit his tongue, though he had led the conversation where he wanted to, so he asked:

“Oh indeed, a one-of-a-kind. May I ask if it could be possible to see that gem?”

“I’m sorry sir but they don’t accept visitors…”

He gazed upon the owner facing him. It was easy to see his lies: the crossed arms, the slight bite of the lip and this twitch of the eyebrow he had seen in some gambler he provoked. He had encountered so many liars like him, so confident yet wearing their emotions under the spotlight. He didn’t mind it, after all that’s how he won. So, he asked:

“My friend, I have heard that your establishment lacked customers. I might be able to do just that… Some of the Strategic Investment Department needs a place to have fun time. Would you be able to grant that?”

“Yes Mr. Aventurine, of course. Our humble establishment would gladly welcome your colleagues. They would also have a price. The IPC, and yourself, have done so much for us !”

“Then make me another drink for me and your generous patrons! It’s on me!”

The owner rushed to the bar, urging his employees to start serving drinks to all patrons. A big investment for just one fleeting moment. Drinks appearing and going from left to right, up and down, cheers coming from one side to another, praises for the generous esteemed guest. Yet he knew how they were just hypocrites, esteeming him during their drunken state. One moment, he was one of the avgins “rotten to the core” and the other he was an “esteemed guest”, what a joke. He looked back at the owner, now was truly time for the gamble:

“If I may bring a drink to the precious gem…”

“Oh of course, Mr. Aventurine. Let me show you the way…”

A few corridors later and they entered your dressing room, knocking on your door. You were facing a vanity taking off the jewels resting on your forehead and chest. The owner introduced:

“Little gem, one of our esteemed guests wanted to give you a drink. So, I brought him to you. He is a particularly important guest which is giving us new clients which means you could get more money for your performance. Treat him well…”

The owner escaped while Aventurine sighed at the owner’s lack of subtility. He signed his bodyguards to stay outside the door and after a few seconds, you finally spoke for the first time:

“I’m not selling my body…”

“Oh no need to inform me, I’m not here for that…” replied the businessman.

To confirm his saying, he sat down on the furthest couch and laid your drink on the nearest table to you. More seconds of the awkward silence, silence in which he delighted because as a gambler he knew it was a silence of thinking, of calculation. You asked politely while turning:

“Then why are you here sir?”

“Because I think we have something in common.”

“Oh really?”

Aventurine, for the first time, took off his glasses to reveal his colourful eyes while his left hand went inside his pocket. Your gaze met and there was this moment. He could see emotions passing through your mind and body: first, the slight widening of your eyes from the surprise, the lips parting as if trying to find words, the quivering fingers as if grasping for reality and then seating back as in disbelief. At last, the nod of acknowledgment. Both of you stayed staring at each other, like staring into mirror. Two beings that started the same but ended up as opposites. You broke the silence:

“I’ve heard rumours about an IPC debt collector being Signonian but are you…?”

“I’m an Avgin.”

The sentence was short, but it felt like a revelation for both of you. An acknowledgment of each other’s fate, each other’s hardships and despair. The realisation of each other’s suffering by the mere gaze, the lack of shine in each other’s eyes. He broke the silence by sipping some of his drink, it was easier to numb the pain. You took again the lead in the conversation:

“May I ask for your name?”

“They call me Aventurine.”

“Doesn’t sound avgin…”

“As I said, darling, they call me that way.”

Behind the dismissive use of the petname and the play on words, he didn’t expect your wit. Although you were quite right to not trust him at first in this cold world. He couldn’t bear to see you slip between his hands like the golden sand. Another gulp of alcohol, of courage. For a second, his vision blurred and his head spinned. For the first time, through sheer will or maybe was it his thoughts blending into a mess, he broke again the silence:

“And may I call you something else than what that man called you? May I have your name?”

You replied, after a few seconds, with your stage name which he immediately got:

“Oh, come on darling, it’s not that much of a big risk to give a name.”

“Says the one who didn’t give his name either…” you retorted.

“Touché! But I did it because I’m known as Aventurine and besides, I’m part of the IPC. As a member of the Ten Stonehearts, I shall reveal no secrecy and invest in my persona.”

You could hear the sarcasm dripping from his lips and he started to be more talkative, probably from the alcohol ingested throughout the night. Even if you wanted to go, you had to stay and treat him well because of the owner’s order. You would be interrupted in your thought process by the blond:

“Those jewels… Are they from turquoise meteorites?”

“Yes, they are. Mama Fenge has blessed my family with it and so I carry them to each performance”.

“Can I see them up close? No touching you or them if you would like to, it’s just been a long time since… Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen some… Would it be possible?”

He silenced himself by taking another gulp of his drink and he put the fedora away, starting to feel hot from the alcohol. He let out a small sigh of relief when you approached to let him look at the golden chain, which was previously attached to your belt, with turquoises and charms. The melody of the chain lulled him into deeper memories, and he started to talk again:

“You know, I’ve heard that these turquoises were as beautiful as Gaiathra Triclops’ eyes, but I wander if they are as valuable as hers. If turquoises are that valuable, then is that why our land was destroyed? Why were our valuable land and people left for dead?”

You didn’t respond because of the sudden emotion. The alcohol had certainly turned the gambler into a sentimental. You didn’t know how to quite manage to those questions because, you too, didn’t have the answer to that question. The dreading question that didn’t come in each other’s mind since a time long ago, a time that felt like forever. Yet your thoughts were again interrupted by him:

“I have a lucky charm too, not as valuable as turquoises but a gold lucky charm my mother gave me. Lucky charm to a lucky child, quite an irony. Big sis’ told me that it was to symbolize my name. “Blessed by Gaithra Triclops”, Kakavasha, lucky child yet received a lucky charm.”

You didn’t comment on how he just told you his name, his mind obviously elsewhere, probably drowning in the memories and the alcohol’s fog. You parted your lips as if trying to find your words, they didn’t come. The small details in his drunken speech seemed to confirm his identity as an avgin. It wasn’t one of the silver-tongued men but of an avgin, one of the last. You tried to continue the conversation:

“But you were blessed by Gaithra Tricolps. You are here, and you are someone powerful and you are quite fit at gaining money at the roulette.”

“Blessed… Lucky me, I guess! Luck makes powerful but my destiny not lucky, not just…”

“Then, how about we pray to the mother goddess for such luck and a happier destiny?”

His eyes widened at your proposition. You showed him your left hand to initiate the prayer, yet you saw his glassy eyes look at your hand like witnessing some kind of miracle.

He was about to take another gulp of his drink, but his hand was too shaky. He didn’t even know now if it was from the alcohol or the emotions, perhaps both, perhaps one facilitating the other. He approached his gloved hand and, after some clumsy movements, rested upon your hand.

You started the prayer, his voice being quieter. With each sentence, the blond went quieter and staring at the joined hands. You didn’t yet notice, at first closing your eyes in this ceremonial moment but when the prayer ended, you could see how his glassy eyes turned teary. You parted your lips trying to say something, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong, yet your surprising reflex was to embrace him.

You were shocked by your sudden gesture, and you couldn’t see Aventurine’s reaction. Though you could sense how tense his body was, how his shoulders were trembling. At first, you thought he would immediately pull away, and he didn’t. You let out a sigh and wrap your arms around him, not sure how it ended up like this. First you were dancing on stage, swirling to the tambourines and bells, and now you end up with a man – you didn’t quite process that he was an avgin just yet- in your arms.

You thought it would be another moment of silence. Not an awkward one, like when he entered your dressing room, but one of acknowledgment. One of contentment in which each other saw pain and sorrow. Yet this silent was broken by his slurred words:

“I should’ve saved her… I should’ve…”

You should hear the slurred words mixed with the throat tightening. The shoulders continued to shake in your embrace. Blond locks following his shaking. The taste of alcohol blending with the salt of the tears. Slowly dripping on your performance outfit, yet you didn’t care. It wasn’t about your outfit or treating him how the owner wanted. It was about helping him in his pain, comforting him. And you didn’t even know but it was the first time that anyone had treated him that way, that anyone had seen him in such despair, that any miracle had managed to quell his solitude.

Everything felt numb, his muscles tensing as if he couldn’t breathe. How would he dare to live? How was he allowed to? He was blessed, yet it was like a curse. He couldn’t bear to think that the one who didn’t come one was the closest to him. He had selfishly followed and ran, as far as he could, even though he knew something horrible was coming. And when he came back, it was too late: the cackling Katicans, blood drenching the golden sand, the fire devouring the tents. And of course, he had survived. He hated that he survived. Tears running down his cheeks and drenching the colourful fabric.

Yet, in this tender embrace, he could smell your perfume. Eyes slowly closing into those nights he longed for so much time: the warmth of the bonfire, the feast with spiced meals, the laughter and conversation swaying, music echoing in the valleys. It was the night of Kakava. Jewellery and colourful fabrics blending in the dance, his sister looking as beautiful as a gem, inviting him for a dance. The well-known steps coming back to him and following the music. You had come into the dance, and all laughed. He took his sister’s hand to give her a turquoise necklace, as precious as Gaiathra’s eyes, just for her to wear in this special occasion. He told her about all the travels he did, journeying far beyond Sigonia, of all the riches he gathered, of all his schemes that worked and some that didn’t. The tender embrace exchanged afterwards bringing him the warmth he so much desired. Sparks going back into his eyes as the warm embers of Hope coming back. They smiled and dance until the blinding dawn came. He turned to his sister and saw her smile, as bright as the sun.

Yet it was the same sunlight that awoke him. He rubbed his eyes and slowly looked around: he was laid down in his bed, with the same outfit as last night – well what he could remember of it – and his headache reminded him of his alcohol consumption. He could almost hear Ratio’s sermon about how alcohol kills his liver. He took out his phone and checked his messages and bank account, thankfully he didn’t spend anything drunk nor text any weird messages. There was only him in his bed, so he didn’t bring anyone home or they might’ve escaped before he woke up.

He slowly sat up, leaning on the headboard, and heard something fall onto the sheets. After rummaging a little, and taking a sip of water, he found a turquoise charm. He couldn’t quite remember when he bought it or if he won it yet there was some sense of familiarity. He approached it, made it shine in the golden rays before the realisation hit him: it was one that once was on your golden chain. As precious as Gaithra’s eyes yet you accepted to give one to him, a fellow Avgin. He swallowed his tears and stood up, one day he hoped to thank you. He didn’t look at his reflection this morning but if he had, he would see that glimmer of Hope back in his beautiful eyes.

[talonabraxas]

A B R A C A D A B R A

The word Abracadabra is said to derive from an Aramaic phrase meaning "I create as I speak." However אברא כדברא in Aramaic is more reasonably translated as "I create like the Word."

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made."

In the beginning was the Word: the Logos, the sound frequency (vibration).

We know that speech means not just any kind of a vibration, but a vibration that carries information.

Thus, I create like the Word.

In the Hebrew language, the phrase translates more accurately as "it came to pass as it was spoken."

History:

The first known mention of the word was in the third century AD in the work Liber Medicinalis by Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, a physician to the Roman emperor, who suggests to wear an amulet containing the word written in the form of a triangle:

A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B - R - A A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B - R A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A - B A - B - R - A - C - A - D - A A - B - R - A - C - A - D A - B - R - A - C - A A - B - R - A - C A - B - R - A A - B - R A - B A

Abracadabra and the Gnostics:

Abracadabra was used as a magical formula by the Gnostics of the sect of Basilides in invoking the aid of beneficent spirits against disease and misfortune. It is found on Abraxas stones, which were worn as amulets. Subsequently, its use spread beyond the Gnostics.

Abraxas:

Have you ever been mesmerized while waiting for the sunrise? As you watch the horizon for that first burst of light, you get swept up in the eternal present moment. With baited breath, your sense of time is suspended, and you’re primed for a miracle. This is the “liminal zone,” the threshold between night and day, between here and there, between this and that. It’s the crossroads where anything is possible. And then the dawn breaks through, like a sudden burst of inspiration, like an act of creation: “Let there be light.” That is the magic of Abraxas, an enigmatic name that has perhaps always been closely associated with the power of the sun. This strange, mysterious name captures that magical, suspended, timeless moment: “all of time as an eternal instant.” Abraxas is the power of infinity—the promise of endless possibilities, the “cosmos” itself. In mythology, Abraxas is the name of a celestial horse that draws the dawn goddess Aurora across the sky. The name suggests a power that is not properly ours but rather a gift from another world.

But what of the name’s origin? It is likely, as an etymologist posited in 1891, that Abraxas belongs “to no known speech” but rather some “mystic dialect,” perhaps taking its origin “from some supposed divine inspiration.” Yet scholars, of course, search for a root. There are speculatory shreds of evidence which suggest that Abraxas is a combination of two Egyptian words, abrak and sax, meaning “the honorable and hallowed word” or “the word is adorable.” Abrak is “found in the Bible as a salutation to Joseph by the Egyptians upon his accession to royal power.” Abraxas appears in “an Egyptian invocation to the Godhead, meaning ‘hurt me not.’” Other scholars suggest a Hebrew origin of the word, positing “a Grecized form of ha-berakhah, ‘the blessing,’” while still others speculate a derivation from the Greek habros and sac, “the beautiful, the glorious Savior.” The name has appeared in the ancient Hebrew/Aramaic mystical treatises The Book of Raziel and The Sword of Moses, and in post-Talmudic Jewish incantation texts, as well as in Persian mythology.

An interesting occurrence of Abraxas is found in a papyrus from late antiquity (perhaps from Hellenized Egypt, though its exact origin is unknown). The papyrus contains “magical recipes, invocations, and incantations,” and tells of a baboon disembarking the Sun boat and proclaiming: “Thou art the number of the year ABRAXAS.” This statement causes God to laugh seven times, and with the first laugh the “splendor [of light] shone through the whole universe.”

The Basilideans, a Gnostic sect founded in the 2nd century CE by Basilides of Alexandria, worshipped Abraxas as the “supreme and primordial creator” deity, “with all the infinite emanations.” The god Abraxas unites the opposites, including good and evil, the one and the many. He is “symbolized as a composite creature, with the body of a human being and the head of a rooster, and with each of his legs ending in a serpent.” His name is actually a mathematical formula: in Greek, the letters add up to 365, the days of the year and the number of eons (cycles of creation).

“That a name so sacredly guarded, so potent in its influence, should be preserved by mystic societies through the many ages . . . is significant,” notes Moses W. Redding, a scholar of secret societies. Redding suggests that only in Freemasonry has this “Divine Word” been “held in due reverence.”

In Kabbalah:

As a carpenter the creator employs tools to build a home, so G'd utilized the twenty-two letters of the alef-Beit (the Hebrew alphabet) to form heaven and earth. They are the metaphorical wood, stone and nails, corner­posts and crossbeams of our earthly and spiritual existence. As in abracadabra "Αύρα κατ' αύρα" אברא כדברא, as he, she, it created the universe with; the Letter, The word, and the number.

As Kabbalist sages say G'd created the alef-beit, before the creation of the world. "The Maggid of Mezritch" explains this on the basis of the first verse in the Book of Genesis “בראשית ברא אלקים את השמים ואת הארץ—In the beginning G'd created the heavens and the earth.” Beresheet Barah Elokim Et (in the beginning God created the) The word את, (es or et) is spelled with an aleph, the first letter of the aleph-beit, and a tav, which is the last. The fact is, את, es, is generally considered to be a superfluous word. There is no literal translation for it, and its function is primarily as a grammatical device. So why is “es” present twice in the very first line of the Torah? It suggests that in the beginning, it was not the heavens and the earth that were created first. It was literally the alef-beit, aleph through to tav. The alpha and the omega, Without these letters, the very Utterances with which G'd formed the universe would have been impossible the Baal Shem Tov explains the verse, “Forever the words of G'd are hanging in the heavens.”

The crucial thing to realize is that G'd, creator, source did not merely create the world once. His Her It's words didn’t just emerge and then evaporate. Rather, G'd continues to create the world anew each and every moment. His Her It's, words are there constantly, “hanging in the heav­ens.” And the alef-beit is the foundation of this ongoing process of creation.

According to Kabbalah, Cabbalah and Qabbalah sages and scholars, when the same letters are transposed to form different words, they retain the common energy of their shared gematria. Because of this, the words maintain a connection in the different forms. We find a classic example of this with the words (הצר, hatzar, troubles), (רצה, ratzah, a desire to run passionately into the “ark” of spiritual study and prayer) and (צהר, tzohar, a light that shines from within). All three words share the same three letters: tzaddik, reish and hei in different com­binations. The Baal Shem Tov, explains, the connection between the words as follows: When one is experiencing trou­bles (hatzar), and one runs to study Spiritual txts and pray with great desire (ratzah), one is illuminated with a G'dly light from within (tzohar) that helps him or her transform there troubles into blessings, as it is said that the source of the twenty-two letters is even higher than that of the Ten Commandments.

As it states: “With you, is the essence of G'd", בך means “with you.” The (Beit which has a gematria of 2) and the (kaf = 20) added together equals 22. Through the twenty-two letters of the alef-Beit, we are all connected to the monad, G'd, Allah الله, the source, and each other through our words and language as words hold power as that which makes us All unique is language as language weaves everything together. These are the teachings of our holy teacher, as the The Zohar affirms that every sentence, every phrase, every word, and even every letter of the Bible exists simultaneously on several levels of meaning. This sacred work clearly declares, “Woe unto those who see in the Law nothing but simple narratives and ordinary words! . . . Every word of the Law contains an elevated sense and a sublime mystery.”

[Except from Path of the Sun Keepers by Paul Francis Young]

“Words have a magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair; they can transfer knowledge from teacher to student; words enable the orator to sway his audience and dictate its decisions. Words are capable of arousing the strongest emotions and prompting all men's actions.” --Sigmund Freud

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

i was wondering if i could request a combination of ❛ so good for me. look how much you came. ❜ and ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜ w/ good endind astarion and including the topics of virginity loss? maybe taking place after the events of baldurs gate ^3^ thank you so so much your time and im looking forward to read more of your incredible writing!

<3 ngl i wrote this to 'To be loved' by aurora lol

Send asks using this prompt

Rated Explicit

Two rings. They are a matching pair bound by magic, warding magic shared between the rings. The magic of love, the lover's embrace.

Astarion gives you his left hand, you place the ring on his ring finger. The same action is repeated by you and his actions match yours.

It is a private wedding, or as close to one can get as close to, and takes place in the inn room for two. Those special ones for honeymoons.

Dark flames from purple-scented candles, the moonlight shines through the open window, and those ruby eyes shine with gentle warmth.

You found a pretty white outfit and Astarion wears one of those fancy black suits with a coattail.

With Selûne as the witness in this clear night with the moon up high and the stars dazzling in the sky, silence as there is peace, soon to be gone in the morning, but tonight you both will bask in each other as if the world is brand new.

The first of many nights to be lived.

You kiss him with a laugh, how could you not be happy!? "I like your last name. I'm taking it."

"My last name?" He half expected to take yours, "Sweet thing." He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, "You can have anything of me."

You stare at the wonder of this world, your world in your arms, "All that I am, let us share eternity with each other." No longer will he have to face the darkness alone, it will be with someone— With you. His sun, dawn breaking through the shadows.

Love. Gods, it is as if his heart is racing.

This is a wedding night, a night he wants you. Wants everything he can feel against his skin, every inch of your body to ache for him, and to experience sex because he wants it— And because he wants to share this first night of everything with you.

In this room, with only the moon as the light and witness, he guides you to bed.

"Are you sure? We can do other things." You show genuine concern.

"Yes," Taking a deep breath, "With you, I want this." Confidence and certainty, the ability to consent.

You read his face then your mind stirs as you feel his touch on your mind, just as you had opened your mind to express your feelings to him, Astarion lays bare his emotions and desires. The desire to love and be loved.

His magic is dark, yet soothing. Yours is warm, light, wild, and untamed.

"Astarion."

"If you will have me."

You smile then nod, "Thank you." Though he feels he should be thanking you for giving him something he thought he lost: freedom.

Everything that freedom entails returned to him, though you take no credit for his victory, he is grateful you were by his side.

His lips take yours, guiding you with slow easy movements for you to match him. "Good pup." Your cheeks burn as your hands reach up, fingers tracing the shell of his ears, "(Name)." His eyes flutter shut, his lips seek yours, hands on your hips.

"So good for me," Smiling above you as he gets to be first to see you like this, "Look how much you came." The spell to see through each other's eyes is an inspired one you created to be his mirror. To use the innocent spell to show you the wonders Astarion is doing is… You can't hide, he won't let you hide from his adoration.

Tonight, every night or day, for as long as time will allow: he will be loved and you will know his desires, bare and raw.

"Astarion, oh! Ah, Gods."

Wow! It is like dying! Astarion chuckles from your thoughts as you cum once more by his hand.

"I can't!" Panicking as you never felt so much at once.

"Have a little trust in yourself, I know you can take it. My little love, breathe in and out."

Love and lust, it is as if he is your missing half. Astarion groans at the way your mind races with so many emotions for him. Raw and messy, he never will doubt ever how much to truly love him. Boundless and limitless.

When he is finally inside of you, two bodies made one, he has to stop himself from cumming so soon from how tight you are. The spell doesn't help as you both feel the union not only from yourselves but each other too.

Your nails scratching his back, your legs locking close to you. His fangs bite into your neck, his grip fierce as he moves. Your hips moving with his, your body singing for him.

You can feel how happy he is, he can feel how amazed you are.

The evening seemed endless, and maybe Selûne stayed a little longer in the sky for some love birds.