#Cloud Managed Services price

[markettrend24]

Cloud Managed Services Market Growth, Overview with Detailed Analysis 2022-2028

Cloud Managed Services Market Growth, Overview with Detailed Analysis 2022-2028

This report studies the Cloud Managed Services Market with many aspects of the industry like the market size, market status, market trends and forecast, the report also provides brief information of the competitors and the specific growth opportunities with key market drivers. Find the complete Cloud Managed Services Market analysis segmented by companies, region, type and applications in the…

[meriablog]

youtube.com/watch?v=xw9-Wsz_uyU

Leveraging AI and SEO (AI and Innovation Theme)* (youtube.com)

Cloudways seo Leveraging AI and SEO (AI and Innovation Theme)* (youtube.com)

[best-develpoment-company]

Unraveling the Power of Managed Cloud Server Hosting: A Step-by-Step Guide?

In today's digital era, businesses are increasingly turning to "cloud server management solutions" to enhance efficiency, scalability, and security. One of the most sought-after options in this realm is fully managed cloud server hosting. This comprehensive guide will take you through the ins and outs of managed cloud server hosting, providing a step-by-step understanding of its benefits, implementation, and best practices.

Understanding Managed Cloud Server Hosting Managed cloud server hosting refers to the outsourcing of server management tasks to a third-party service provider. This includes server setup, configuration, maintenance, security, updates, and troubleshooting. By "opting for managed cloud hosting", businesses can focus on their core activities while leaving the technical aspects to experienced professionals.

Benefits of Managed Cloud Server Hosting Enhanced Security: Managed cloud server hosting offers robust security measures such as firewalls, intrusion detection systems, data encryption, and regular security audits to protect sensitive data and applications.

Scalability: With managed cloud hosting, businesses can easily scale their resources up or down based on demand, ensuring optimal performance and cost-efficiency.

Cost Savings: By outsourcing server management, businesses can save costs on hiring dedicated IT staff, infrastructure maintenance, and upgrades.

24/7 Monitoring and Support: Managed cloud hosting providers offer round-the-clock monitoring and support, ensuring quick resolution of issues and minimal downtime.

Step-by-Step Implementation of Managed Cloud Server Hosting

Step 1: Assess Your Hosting Needs Determine your storage, processing power, bandwidth, and security requirements. Identify the type of applications (e.g., web hosting, databases, e-commerce) you'll be hosting on the cloud server.

Step 2: Choose a Managed Cloud Hosting Provider Research and compare different managed cloud hosting providers based on their offerings, pricing, reputation, and customer reviews. Consider factors such as server uptime guarantees, security protocols, scalability options, and support services.

Step 3: Select the Right Cloud Server Configuration Choose the appropriate cloud server configuration (e.g., CPU cores, RAM, storage) based on your hosting needs and budget. Opt for features like automatic backups, disaster recovery, and SSL certificates for enhanced security and reliability.

Step 4: Server Setup and Configuration Work with your "managed cloud hosting provider" to set up and configure your cloud server according to your specifications. Ensure that all necessary software, applications, and security protocols are installed and activated.

Step 5: Data Migration and Deployment If migrating from an existing hosting environment, plan and execute a seamless data migration to the "managed cloud server". Test the deployment to ensure that all applications and services are functioning correctly on the new cloud server.

Step 6: Ongoing Management and Optimization Regularly monitor server performance, security, and resource utilization to identify potential issues and optimize performance. Work closely with your "managed cloud hosting provider" to implement updates, patches, and security enhancements as needed.

Step 7: Backup and Disaster Recovery Planning Set up automated backups and disaster recovery mechanisms to protect data against hardware failures, cyber threats, and data loss incidents. Regularly test backup and recovery processes to ensure their effectiveness in real-world scenarios.

Best Practices for Managed Cloud Server Hosting Regular Security Audits: Conduct regular security audits and vulnerability assessments to identify and mitigate potential security risks. Performance Monitoring: Continuously monitor server performance metrics such as CPU usage, memory utilization, disk I/O, and network traffic to optimize resource allocation.

Backup and Restore Testing: Test backup and restore procedures periodically to ensure data integrity and recovery readiness. Compliance and Regulations: Stay compliant with industry regulations and data protection laws relevant to your business operations. Disaster Recovery Planning: Develop and implement a comprehensive disaster recovery plan with predefined procedures for data restoration and business continuity.

In conclusion, "managed cloud server hosting" offers a myriad of benefits for businesses seeking reliable, scalable, and secure hosting solutions. By following the step-by-step guide outlined above and adhering to best practices, businesses can leverage the power of "managed cloud hosting" to streamline operations, reduce costs, and drive business growth in the digital landscape.

[emorphistechno]

Learn about salesforce financial services cloud, use cases, features, benefits, and costs Hire a salesforce consultant for your Finance business.

Get in touch for Salesforce consulting services.

[midnightarcheress]

another casino thingy with john price, bc why not?

cw: nsfw. masturbation, fingering, implicit exhibitionist price?, f!reader. idk shit about poker. 2 | more casino!141

you go to the casino again. not to gamble though.

at first, you were reluctant on showing up. it was nice of John to give you money for your services that night, and you couldn't deny the instant attraction lingering on your brain, but you didn't want to feel like a token, a four-leaved clover he picked out of the grass. also, you were convinced that your luck was a one-time thing, so why bother trying again? he surely found another charm to put in his pocket by now. 

however, those thoughts vanished from your mind when you heard a sharp knock on your door. 

you look through the peephole and immediately recognize the person standing in your hallway – mohawk guy. how did he...? your first instinct is to ignore him, but curiosity wins the fight against logic and you open the door.

"hello, bonnie." he smiles, "Price's waiting for ye," he blurts out before you can even ask anything. he's waiting?

for a minute, you don't think. your body moves on auto-pilot, scouring your closet for a decent outfit and smoothing down your hair to look at least presentable, as a stranger – Johnny, you learned – paces in your living room. 

the next thing you know, you're in the passenger seat of his car, one hand resting on your leg and thumb edging the hem of your skirt, driving downtown. you couldn't help but shudder at the tingling sensation of his fingers on your skin, and he just snorts at your reaction, amused. are they all this touchy?

thankfully for you, Johnny is a talker, so you don't have to do much work to pass the time. he tells you that John is actually the owner of the casino and that every friday night he hosts a poker game with some of his friends. that he and the boys – Simon and Kyle – help Price with the management and with making sure no one creates trouble, and that John hasn't stopped talking about you.

your eyes widen after his last words, earning a chuckle out of the scot and nearly making you forget the question that first popped into your head when you saw him at your door – how in the hell did he know where i live? but at this point, you're not sure you care. 

the light squeeze on your thigh alerts you that you've arrived, hopping out of the car and walking inside. the place is as packed as ever, but he leads you directly to the back, the same door as before. 

"there she is." John grins, already tapping his lap for you to sit, "now we can start." this time, you don't hesitate, happily obliging to his request even when a part of you cringes at your eagerness. you accept the glass of bourbon, neat, that Kyle hands you, and despite being too strong for your liking, you don't bother. probably tastes like John.

the first few rounds were tame, with low bets, but soon enough you see the flying 5000 chips landing on the table and hear the laughs getting louder, as he traces circles on your hip. you don't know if it's the alcohol coursing in your veins, the softness of his touch, or his hot breath on your ear, but warmth starts pooling in your stomach and your legs clump together to ease the tension.

John notices your squirms and devilishly smirks, enjoying your desperate attempts to forgo the desire building in you. "here, kiss it for good luck, Ace." Ace? his left-hand holds a chip up, as the right one sneaks between your thighs and pry them apart again, making you gasp. 

you timidly lean forward to press a quick kiss on the chip and instantly feel the heat creeping up your cheeks when his hand reaches your underwear. "you're so wet, Ace," he whispers, pulling your damp pants to the side. god, what is he... oh.

you try your best to be calm, not let the sensation of his fingers grazing your folds cloud your mind, but it's too much. your head tips back onto his shoulder, and any word that threatens to come out of your mouth and stop him gets caught in your throat. there's people around. everyone can see how much of a mess you are. and they... don't care?

his thumb gently rubs your clit as his middle finger toy with your entrance in an agonizingly slow manner, soft sighs escaping your mouth and eyes embarrassingly glossy focusing on the table. the game is still going, there's at least eight other men in this room, counting the players and the boys, fuck i'm– you bite back moans, gripping his forearm to keep him in place and to stop yourself from writhing in his lap. 

"easy, love," he murmurs, finally pumping his digit inside you, "such a greedy cunt." his tone is low, syrupy, dripping like honey over you and nearly making you cum at the sound of his voice. you nuzzle your face on his neck, muffling your whimpers and drowning in the scent of his cologne. "what's keepin' me from throwin' you on top of this table and takin' you right now, hm?"

"John–" you breathe out, coil on your belly tightening when he inserts another finger, hitting the spongy spot you were never quite able to reach, making you mewl with pleasure. his beard brushes on your neck and his warm lips trace your jaw, leaving an underlying burning on your skin that drops straight to your core. 

through half-lidded eyes you see the dealer finishing distributing the cards and the subtle twitch in John's mouth when he glances at his hand. your mind is too far gone by the point when they place the bets, too lost in the feeling of his frantic thrusts, velvety walls instinctively clenching around him to enhance the bliss.

the knot inside of you snaps and you cry out, limbs trembling in his hold and pure electricity travelling under your surface; it's intense, ripples through your core, heavenly overstimulating every corner of your body and sending your mind to outer space. 

you float back to earth and taste the metallic flavor in your mouth, bottom lip sore from biting too hard to prevent your screams. John nudges you back to reality with a kiss on your temple, "such a good girl, love." he flaunts his cards in front of your eyes, and after a few attempts to refocus your vision, he gloats, wide smile and lustful eyes directed only at you, "just won me thirty grand, Ace."

i'd love to write more of this casino universe but i'm very much lacking in the ideas department lol

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Clark Kent would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: None

A/N: Felt like writing for clark lately, I'm down horrifically for this man. This can be for any incarnation of Superman but I based it off the comics and my adventures with superman

It all started with a random encounter at the library while he was researching an old historical site in Metropolis(aka busy work for the new guy). He saw you with a couple of books in your hand, eyes browsing the shelves. 

He worked up the nerve to start a conversation with you and actually managed to get your number. He left the library with butterflies in his stomach and an angry call from Perry asking his whereabouts. 

A good starter date for him was obviously coffee. He spends hours deciding where to meet up with you, trying to find reasonably priced coffee with a good atmosphere. He tries to come up with a bunch of different outfit combinations, making the attempt to look nice but not too dressed up. This proved difficult since his wardrobe is 90% dress shirts and slacks, he’s still gotta look casual. Clark is such an overthinker, he just wants things to go well ; v; 

Of course the date goes well cause he’s so perfectly himself and he charms you so naturally. He’s surprised when you ask to see him again, the whole time he was sweating bullets praying you didn’t notice. After that the second, third, and fourth date all are perfect. Well not perfect but the time spent together makes up for the hiccups. 

Now let’s get into the nitty-gritty: early days of dating Clark still tries to be perfect, he hasn’t become totally comfortable with you, yet ;)  I think for him he wants to wow his partner in the early stages, he feels like trying to get a city slicker like you he has to bring his A-game. 

When he sees you he tries to bring you little trinkets and flowers, he likes to spoil you every now and again. 

Touching! He likes to be touching you when you’re near, a hand on your waist, brushing his pinky against your hand, pressing his knee next to yours when you’re sitting together. His love language is acts of service, words of affirmation and physical touch. He loves doing things for the people close to him. This includes: Taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting a pot of coffee on in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes. 

Now when you're really in it with him he tells you about the Superman stuff, he feels like he can trust you but there’s still the risk of you knowing that’ll get you hurt. He doesn’t underestimate your autonomy but there are very powerful forces out there that want him gone, and you are very precious to him. 

Once you can convince him that you are willing to accept the risks and tell him how much you care about him, the last of the walls come down. You’re stuck with him forever now and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

When it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see. However if you’re afraid of heights he won’t force you lol. He’ll make sure you’re properly dressed when he takes you to visit the fortress of solitude(He tries is the key phrase). You always underestimate how cold it’ll be and he has to go all the way back to metropolis to get your favorite jacket while you sit by a heater.

 Looking after him when he gets kryptonite poisoning from fighting bitch ass Lex Luthor, seeing him sweat for the first time with dark circles under his eyes. It’s more painful than what he’s feeling at that moment, and he still tries to tell you it’s not that bad. Once he’s feeling better he has to talk you down from murdering Luthor.

“Honey don’t-” “Nuh-uh call Bruce, I want a bazooka.” “You don’t need a bazooka sweetheart, I'm fine.” “No way I’m coming for his bald ass.” “Baby I’m fine, please calm down.”

Of course you’re not serious but you still want to protect him. Nobody messes with Clark and gets away with it. You and his friends will see to that, yes sir!

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[spirintom]

💜Sampo headcanons

Sooo... I wanted to try to wright something about characters i love so i decided to do 2 in 1 - art plus headcanons fot it

~Ordinary day in Belobog~

It's just some fluff silly headcanons. Hope you'll love it!

💜 Sampo's morning always starts not with coffee, not with social media, but with checking turnip prices in Animal Crossing.  

Seriously. He doesn't worry that much about his own budget, how he keeps an eye on his bank account in the game. Sampo knows the prices for EVERYTHING: bugs, fish, fossils, fruits, etc. He sells it with incredible efficiency, but doesn't pay a single penny to Tom Nook (the merchant simply hates this raccoon, but respects him for how skillfully he can push another loan or charge money for some service). 

💜 After finishing all the virtual "megaimportantyoudon’trunderstand" tasks, Sampo puts on his cozy bathrobe, slippers with Hannah Montana (even aeons don't know where he managed to dig up merchandise originally for kids of such size. His foot isn’t small after all...) and goes to bathroom. After fixing his hair, brushing his teeth, and applying a super shiny fancy mask, the merchant goes to the kitchen. 

💜 Surprisingly, Sampo cooks well. Especially simple dishes. 

💜 During breakfast, he always watches something. Most often it's TV series. God, I'm 100% sure that Sampo loves shows about the double life of pop stars (especially the mentioned above Montana). Romantic melodramas, cosplay videos, game reviews - that's his thing too. 

💜 What he can't stand, though, is true crime videos and all sorts of creepypastas. He's really hates all that descriptions of bloody scenes, violence, and worse - rape. Sampo can't even sleep at night after that. Not that he's scared, but he feels bad inside. 

💜 Later in the day, between tasks, the merchant likes to sit in some secluded spot in the upper part of Belobog and look around. It's his kind of meditation. Watching the peaceful, monotonous flow of life around him, Sampo gets distracted from his problems. 

💜 People walk back and forth in the streets, clouds float in the sky, and a cool breeze blows on his face - that means everything is good, the world hasn't collapsed yet, everything can be fixed. Everything will be fine. 

💜 Sampo gets especially cheered up when he sees familiar faces in the crowd. For some reason, I think he really appreciates the crew of the Star Express. And every time he sees Stella/Kelus, March 7, Dan Han, or familiar faces from Belobog, he brightens up. (well, only if it's not Gepard, coming to arrest his poor ass). 

💜 At the end of the day, after playing hide-and-seek with Gepard and a couple of other guards, arguing with stubborn clients, and a bunch of other not-so-pleasant work, Sampo comes home completely exhausted. But he remembers the unsold scorpions in Crossing, the episode he missed in the morning, and drags himself first to the bathroom, and then to bed. There's a whole night ahead. Which means there's still time to goof around and dedicate time to little silliness and joys. He can still borrow energy from the next day anyway... 

(sorry if there are mistakes. It's first time i'm writing on english😢)

[mudora]

A few days ago, I re blogged a post describing the intense backlash Adobe is getting for certain policies involving permissions with their cloud services, and posted an article citing these agreements lack of changes until recently - and upon thinking on it for a few days, I AM noticing the apparent lack of transparency, especially since they updated those terms. But the lack of trust for Adobe remains true regardless, and further updates on this matter are far more alarming then the initial read. So, definitely try to find other programs then Adobe's products. I'll likely need to search for something myself. Sadly, I am mostly comfortable with photoshop's features, and clip studio does not work in the way that I like or prefer. I'm a user who likely does not spend as much yearly on a sub, since (and I'm not joking) my uncle does indeed work for Adobe as a programmer, and unfortunately has no clout to stop this higher level lunacy from happening. Though I might pay a smaller price tag, it doesn't change the fact that the price for their programs is astronomical. I'll likely keep using it and other software as I don't have many other options that work the way I'd like them to for my process. However some other options are always nice to look up on. Keep in mind, I am an advanced user, and simple photo manip tools are not going to cut it for painting/drawing/and visual development. I am keeping my eye on a few promising options. Thankfully for Photo manipulation and editing, there is plenty of good and free software to use. Some recs for those who can't just get off the burning Adobe Train - use your firewall to protect you from potential spying from their programs. On Windows, you can change these settings directly within your firewall settings. "No problem.

And for those wondering, on Windows both 10 & 11, go to Control Panel > Windows Defender > Advances Options > Manage Outgoing Connections > Add new rule.

From here you'll enter a wizard menu where you can pick and choose programs to block access to."

(credit to @kevinreijnders.bsky.social for this tip). I also suggest not to use the cloud for your file storage, and I rec getting a different storage device for your art files anyway, as you can take it with you anywhere you go with either an external hard drive, or usb memory stick.

[merakiui]

ngl, I very much want to hear about archangel Rollo and incubus boss Azul, Mera-

In this au, I like to imagine heaven is just,,, built like a corporation and so, though Rollo is an angel of high rank and can thus travel freely between the human world and the realm of the celestial as a messenger, he's basically the angel equivalent of the modern day salaryman. orz but he's very dedicated to his job and rank, and he refuses to cut corners or risk doing anything that goes against his own rigid principles as an angel! He's constantly trying to manage the chaotic force that is Floyd, which is the main reason he assigns Floyd a human to begin with. Rollo hopes that time in the human world will do Floyd good (and it's also one less problem for Rollo to manage up in the clouds).

Most angels of lower positions receive their assignments directly from Archangel Flamme. He can seem strict and no-nonsense (which he is), but he is also polite and upstanding, determined to always keep relations between humans and angels peaceful. He's not very fond of demons or hell in general, so it would be soooo devastating if he fell for a demon darling and ooooo the temptation he's always struggling with and yes. >:)

As for Azul, he's a lowly ranked incubus who is determined to climb the ranks and find his rightful place at the top. He runs a secret service in hell that matches demons with human hosts. Most demons need to go through lots of stuffy procedures if they want to visit the human world (although there are always cracks and loopholes that are slipped through and exploited). For the low, low (read: very steep) price of your power or half your lifespan or even rare heirlooms, Azul can write up a contract that allows demons to claw their way into the human world. <3 it's his specialty.

He keeps tabs on what's happening within the realms. Jade often acts as his messenger, slinking up to the surface to survey poor, unfortunate humans in need of their demonic pick-me-ups. Azul will happily do business with all creatures. Everyone's a deal just waiting to happen in his eyes. He was cast out of heaven for practicing forbidden magic (among other sinful deeds), and from the rubble of nothing he's built himself up into something. He avoids feeding off of sexual energy and instead gets his sustenance through other human fluids (namely blood, but it's not nearly as fulfilling).

Azul claims the reason he refrains from seeking out human meals is the absurd amount of calories that come with loveless sex, which is partially a reason he abstains, but the real reason is that he's very awkward beneath his silver-tongued flattery (read: loser virgin). He's a business-demon first and foremost, not a creature mindlessly shackled to his own biological imperatives. No matter how hard he avoids it, how much he uses other means to feed, it's still never enough. Although that's how all incubi feel. They're never satiated. So hopefully Mr. Azul can find that special someone (you) who will make him feel whole hehe. <3

[thehighpriestexx420]

What do they think/feel about you?

Pick A Card - General Collective Tarot Reading

Take a moment to consider each picture/pile number and see which one calls out to you. One may pop out more than the others immediately. This indicates this pile will significantly resonate with you and you're meant to see this.

You may feel drawn to more than one pile and that works too. Take what resonates and leave the rest. This is a general reading for whoever sees this and every detail may not be for you as an individual.

My Tarot Services:

My Reviews:

Pile 1

The Hanged Man clarified by The Star, The Devil clarified by 3 of Swords, 2 of Wands clarified by The Tower, 7 of Pentacles clarified by The Magician, Page of Swords clarified by 10 of Wands, & The World clarified by Ace of Swords

This is an ex. They're being faced with a decision as to whether or not they should pursue you. They want to but the heartbreak and grief from the breakup is holding them back and clouding their mind. They were unfairly critical towards you only due to the stress of the breakup. They don't truly think that of you and need to work on managing their emotions.

I saw 444 when I was doing your reading. The meaning of this number further clarifies some things. They're currently thinking about you too. You're mirroring eachother and may be twin flames, a member of the same soul family, and/or have soul-ties.

You both have deep love for each other and are meant to teach each other what it means to be whole, complete, balanced, and in harmony. You're the whole world to them and you're everything they could ever want. A main message for you is to trust in your intuition and the guidance you've been recieving from your guides/angels. You're right to have faith/hope for this relationship. Change is coming soon.

They're of 2 minds about this connection but their faith and trust in what they're seeing is growing. It's currently the dominant perspective, even if slightly. They know what you are to eachother, that the difficult times you've gone through served as lessons, and that you're meant to continue on eachother's path. However, they still have to gather their courage and determination in order to fully test that theory. Overcoming the pain and loss of confidence they're experiencing isn't easy.

They're thinking and contemplating a lot about this connection. Their mind feels really scattered and it's like they're fighting themselves and for clarity. They're obsessing, stressed, and guarded.

They're going to reach out when they can't take it anymore just to find relief and get out of their head. At this point, knowing your response is worth whatever rejection may occur. I'm feeling that they're actually going to explode and reach out within days - around 5 for alot of you.

Their mind reminds me of ADHD, anxiety, and depression so if they have these it largely contributes to their scattered mind and what they have to overcome in order to reach out to you.

They find you very attractive and like to watch & admire you. They want to have rough, even harsh, sex with you.

Pile 2

Judgement clarified by The Devil, 5 of Swords clarified by Temperance, The Moon clarified by Ace of Pentacles, The Hanged Man clarified by The Hierophant, 9 of Swords clarified by Death, & The Devil clarified by 7 of Wands

It's interesting that you choose the picture with fire and your reading contains a lot of firey energy along with fire imagery. There's a lot of anger and conflict here. For the large majority of you, you're the one who needs to learn how to manage your emotions and they're the passive one and/or the one who walks away during arguments.

You've been arguing and yelling alot and this is endangering your relationship if they haven't broken up with you already. They've been seeking advice from their friends/family and this has made it harder for them to figure out their own thoughts and use their best judgement.

They don't want to walk away from *you*, they want to walk away from the screaming. They want a new beginning with you that's healed and harmonious. They see the value of this relationship and want to work on it with you. But that means you have to be willing because they won't stay around for the mistreatment.

This is a deep seeded issue you have and you have to consistently show the change you want with your actions in order to ease their concerns and worries. They need some space to themself and to find the courage and inner strength to communicate their desire to you.

Pile 3

King of Wands clarified by Ace of Wands, 8 of Chalices clarified by 2 of Swords, Ace of Swords clarified by 3 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords clarified by 10 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles clarified by 3 of Swords, & The Hanged Man clarified by The Devil

Your person is currently in a relationship with someone else. Deep down they know they have to leave the relationship but they feel trapped and confused. They pride themselves on being loyal and supportive with whoever their current partner is so they may even be suppressing and denying their passionate feelings towards you.

They need to change their perspective about this situation in order to see the way out of it. You can try to deny reality but at the end of the day, in order to truly live, you have to have the courage and determination to go after what you want. You're being asked to trust in their ability to do this. They'll come to you, just have patience.

They need to get past their guilt and anguish to see that they can't help how they feel and the only reason to feel guilty is if they stayed in a relationship where they're not honest about having feelings for someone else. The extremely high passion they feel towards you will push them to rise above this.

Pile 4

The Hanged Man clarified by Death, Page of Wands clarified by 8 of Wands, The World clarified by Daughter of Wands, Judgement clarified by Temperance, 5 of Pentacles clarified by 7 of Wands, & 7 of Pentacles clarified by Ace of Swords

Your person is someone from your past - likely an ex. You had a falling out and they want forgiveness, healing, harmony, and renewal in your relationship.

They're done hanging in limbo. They want to work on your relationship, learn from the obstacles that caused you to fall out, and rise above them. The clarity they've gained about this after taking some time to reflect on this situation will have them reaching out to you very soon. They'll express their romantic love for you and their desire to heal the relationship.

They see you as their whole world, attractive, and vibrant. They want to have a home with you and see you as their home. Although it's important to not get on your bad side, they see the love and care you have for them. You make them feel safe, protected, loved, and comforted.

You may be overly protective of yourself & misinterpret things due to needing to heal your inner child and work through trauma.

Although they're afraid of rejection and things going wrong, they have the passion, courage, and strength to reach out to you. Losing you has caused them to hit rock bottom and go through a difficult grieving period. It's made it hard for them to have motivation for alot of things, including reaching out to you because of the hopelessness that depression brings.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

(Contents Warning: Sexual assault, sexual harrassment, n/oncon, d/ubcon, groping, molestation, intimidation, coercion, choking, ogling, n/onconsensual voyeurism/public sex, fingering, cheating?)

Ghost POV:

The day had been long and tiring. Constant meetings with Price to discuss upcoming missions and training potential recruits was exhausting. Ghost always felt the latter was a waste of his time because it took quite a lot to truly impress him. And every single time, not one person ever met his standards. They were always so young, not yet scarred and broken from years of service. There was still that spark of life in their eyes. They still had the ability to laugh, joke, and relax.

Relax. The word felt foreign to him now. He couldn't remember the last time he had truly let his guard down and completely relaxed. Basic stress management was the closest he ever got these days. A few hours in the gym, a session beating the life out of a punching bag. Ending the day by letting out all that pent up aggression always made him feel slightly better. And luckily, today had been one of those days.

After treating himself to a hot shower, Ghost headed down the hall towards his room in pursuit of some much needed rest. But as he walked past König's door, a strange noise caught his attention. He paused just outside, listening intently. For a moment, he thought he'd just imagined and was about to walk away. But then he heard it again. A hushed voice? No, there were two hushed voices. Definitely two.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed that curfew started in just five minutes. That meant no visitors, no wandering about. Just each soldier alone in their room, sleeping (or at the very least being quiet enough that everyone else could). He'd been over the rules with König so many times already. But it seemed the arrival of his girlfriend had emboldened him. And now he needed yet another reminder. Ghost raised his hand to the door knob, his face dropping into a tired scowl as he prepared to give his subordinate a piece of his mind.

But then he froze, eyes narrowed as a series of moans escaped the room. The annoyance he'd initially felt was quickly simmering into something else as the reality of the situation dawned on him: he was fucking her. Rage, disgust, envy, hatred. Whatever Ghost felt, he was too tired to identify it. But the feeling was strong.

They had no way of knowing he was overhearing their dirty little secret. Logic told him it wasn't intentional. But it didn't help his mood to also feel like he was being taunted. The girl he craved so desperately, being claimed by another man just a few feet from where he stood? It made his blood boil. So much for stress management.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. And soon afterward, he heard König's voice rise. He was saying something about not wanting to hurt her. And she was begging him to. But to his surprise and dark delight, König was flat out refusing! That moment was all it took to convert a significant portion of his sentiment into a derisive sneer.

Everything about her had screamed "sub" from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. But this all but confirmed that König was the furthest thing from dominant in bed. She was right there and at his mercy, literally begging for it. But he couldn't do it. He wouldn’t! All that potential, dangling just out of his reach and being completely wasted on someone too scared to take the reins? That thought alone made him burn with jealousy, but also devious intrigue. König couldn't give her what she really wanted. But Ghost knew that he could. All he needed was an opportunity. He quietly backed away from the door, satisfied with the intel he'd gathered as he continued down the hall with a chuckle.

"You better savor this moment, König," he mused on his way. "Because I won't let her be your little Maus for long."

Reader POV:

Your head was firmly in the clouds as you tiptoed back down the hall towards your room. König had been utterly insatiable! After the first few rounds, you’d lost track of just how many times he took you that night. Every climax started blurring together. Time didn't exist in either of your minds. Just wave after wave of intense pleasure. In retrospect, his stamina shouldn't have been surprising. He was a soldier after all. But still, for a first timer?

You sighed, still in a daze as you crept down the hall. You moved as quickly as you could, but your knees were still a bit too weak to fully comply. God, you felt so good. And from the barely coherent strings of German König was whimpering in your ear towards the end, you were confident he was still just as blissed out as you were. After all of that, you’d probably drift off to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You raised the collar of his jacket higher as you shivered, grateful for its warmth. With your previous outfit torn to shreds, it was all he could offer you to cover yourself with before giving you one last kiss and whispering goodnight. On you, it was far too big, but surprisingly soft. And when you buried your face in the sleeves, you were surrounded with König’s comforting scent. You had every intention of just sleeping in it and imagining him holding you gently in his arms as you did.

As you rounded the last corner to your room, you were immediately startled out of your dreamy state when you found someone lurking just around the corner. Perfectly tucked behind the wall so that you wouldn’t see them until you were exactly where you stood. When your eyes rose, you locked eyes with the last person you wanted to see in your current state: Ghost. His posture was casual, but something felt off. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. But his eyes. They were dark, piercing, and dangerous. Any previous thoughts you had about getting him to warm up to you vanished. In their place, your head rang with one persistent warning: Run. 

Panicking, you immediately started to backpedal. You moved like an animal attempting to evade their predator's notice - slowly and carefully - stupidly hoping you somehow hadn’t been seen and could still escape. But his silent stare continued, and he wasn’t looking away. Instead, he moved with you. Every step you took away from him, he took a step forward of the same distance or more. Your blood ran through your veins like ice. Alone. Late at night. Barely clothed. Just you and him. This could end badly. Very badly.

“Out past curfew, are we?” he growled.

"T-there's a curfew?" You laughed nervously, attempting to defuse the increasing tension. But he was not amused.

"Don't play dumb with me, girl. Where were you?"

“I was-I was just…,” you backed away until your back met the wall with a light thud. Ghost took up your entire field of vision as he towered over you. How you wished the wall would somehow let you pass right through it light an actual ghost, if only just to escape his burning gaze. But despite your wishes, the wall stayed firmly in place. And he kept coming closer.

“You were just what?” He spit the words out through his teeth, making you flinch. "Thought you could nab some confidential files from the Captain's office? Sneak into restricted areas just for fun?"

You tried to speak. But you were struggling to form any coherent sentence at all, let alone a solid excuse that would get you out of this. But as Ghost continued to approach, your brain felt like it was frozen solid. He was already close enough that you could see the tiny granules that made up whatever black substance he kept smeared around his eyes. And he wasn’t stopping. “Where were you?”

As a reflex, you brought your hands up as a last resort to maintain space between you and him. But the motion was useless as he effortlessly pressed in on you, intentionally crowding you against the wall until the front of his vest pressed firmly against your chest. Your arms buckled under the pressure, leaving your hands trapped against his lower torso. The pure terror coursing through you was making you lightheaded. As your breathing neared hyperventilation, you couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper as you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away from him. But the rough fabric of his gloved hand practically imprinted itself on your skin as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face him.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Look at me. I asked you a question.”

His chest heaved against you as you squirmed. But he was not at all concerned with your discomfort. His attention was elsewhere entirely. And there was nothing you could do to stop him as his eyes slowly raked over your body, pausing at every place where it met his own. He drew the moment out like he wanted you to watch him mentally undress you. Like he wanted you to see just how helpless and vulnerable you were. It was dirty, it made you feel dirty. But the message was loud and clear. The bottom of his mask twitched upward as he smirked, returning to glowering down at you. It made your skin crawl.

“I, um. I just needed a drink of water,” you lied, finally finding your words. You hated how small your voice sounded.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, girl."

His hand jerked away from your jaw. You opened your mouth in a frightened yelp, scared that he would actually strike you. But the sound was lodged in your throat as his hand gripped your neck. The pressure wasn't enough to fully restrict your breathing, but the threat that he could do so with ease was crystal clear.

“Where. Were. You.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and you could feel your face grow hot. The corners of your eyes began to water, but you resisted the urge. You would not give him the satisfaction of making you cry. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, anything too wrong.

“Please,” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just needed a drink, Ghost. I swear!”

“Really?” He hissed, disbelieving. The hand at your neck squeezed ever so slightly, and you bit your lip. You gasped as it loosened just enough to let you breathe again. But his hand stayed put as he spoke. “Then explain to me why you’re wearing König’s jacket.”

“He gave it to me to repair. And I was cold. Is that a crime?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes cold and calculating as he thought. “Depends. Because, I happen to recall hearing a lot of… noise coming from his room tonight. You telling me you had nothing to do with that?”

The blood drained from your face. Oh, God. How much had he heard?

“...I’m sure he just had a nightmare or something.”

“I think you’re hiding something.”

“I think you’re overthinking this! Please, Ghost. Let me go. I’m tired!”

By now, the fear had started to wear off just enough to let frustration kick in. Who did this guy think he was anyway? From where you were standing, he was breaking curfew too just by being out here with you. But you suspected that pointing out wasn't the smartest idea. Instead, you summoned all your strength to shove against his chest as hard as you could.

Ghost just blinked down at you, not moving even an inch. After a brief pause, he finally let go of your throat. But the relief it brought you proved to be short-lived when the neck of your jacket was pulled taut in his hand, his fingers now toying with the zipper. You jumped as you felt his other hand brush against the inside of your lower thigh. And all of the fear from before came rushing back tenfold as he spoke again.

“So," he growled, his voice dropping lower. "You’re telling me that if I were to tug down on this zipper or hike this hem up a bit, I won’t find a different explanation?”

“He wouldn’t dare,” you thought as your mind began to race. But you started to sweat when the zipper yanked downward. It stopped only part of the way down but still gave him a generous view of the upper half of your breasts. He shamelessly ogled you, watching them heave against his body as you panicked. Meanwhile, his other hand was rapidly rising towards the hem of your jacket. You clamped your legs together in protest to try to stop it from climbing any higher. But Ghost wedged his knee between them, intent on proving his point. A jolt of heat pooled in your belly at the sudden force, paired with the familiar sensation of growing wetness between your thighs. Were you into this? Why the hell were you into this? What the fuck was wrong with you?

“You smell of sex, princess,” he taunted, his face uncomfortably close to yours as he whispered in your ear. “You reek of it. And I'd wager anything that if I slid my hand up a bit higher, I'd find exactly the evidence I'm looking for still dripping out of your cunt.”

The vulgar words made you shiver, powerless as his fingers rose higher and higher. You could feel the heat of his hand hovering just over the apex of your legs. The needy gasp that flew from your lips made you burn with shame as his fingers slipped across your slick folds. His other hand abandoned the zipper and flew over your mouth, silencing you.

You squirmed with a muffled moan as his fingers discovered the tiny, swollen bundle of nerves that made your back arch at the gentlest touch. Pleased with your reaction, he made it his primary focus. His fingers drew slow, tight circles around it as you trembled in his hold. You couldn't speak. He was making sure of that. But you whimpered, frantically shaking your head in an effort to make the maddening pleasure stop.

"You want me to stop?" He hissed. "Then tell me. Tell me to stop."

He said the words like you had the power here. Like he was trying to convince himself to stop. But still, his hand briefly lifted away from your mouth. You could have told him to stop. You knew you should. But your body was adamant in its response. The depravity of the situation was turning you on and you were too far gone to deny it.

As your deafening silence continued, he chuckled and returned his hand to your mouth. His movements below now carried on with renewed fervor. "No more lies for me tonight?" He purred in your ear. "Good girl."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your body as you moaned. And you knew he could feel your wetness increase. As his fingers picked up speed, you knew you were going to come. You were already so sensitive from before and you couldn't stop it. And Ghost was well aware. Nothing escaped his perception.

"Come for me, princess," he growled against your ear. "Show me just how good I make you feel. That's an order."

That was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge of a powerful orgasm. Your whole body tensed as you arched your back against the wall, whimpering pitifully as you climaxed against his hand. His gaze was locked on your face, not wanting to miss the tiniest detail of your undoing. His eyes drank you in, savoring every labored breath you took as you slumped back against the wall. Your knees buckled, your body no longer able to support itself after hours of overstimulation. It was only his firm grip on your arm that prevented you from crumpling to the floor. Unable to bring yourself to meet his eyes again, you kept them fixed on your feet in mortification. What had you just done?

“Let that be a little something to remember me by,” his voice hummed above you. “A small taste of what could be yours if you’re smart enough to take it. So, the next time you find your lover lacking? The next time he tells you "no"? I want you to remember this. How good you felt. How hours with him were nothing compared to just a few minutes with me.”

“No, no,” your head fell into your hands as dread washed over you. “I love König. I would never hurt him like that! It would destroy him, and you know it.”

“He’ll get over it. He’s young.” He shrugged, his smirk returning as his voice dropped to a threatening whisper. “But mark my words. After tonight, you’ll never get over me. I will haunt your mind day and night until you finally break and come crawling back for more.”

At that exact moment, a door opened and closed down the hall behind him. His words lingered in the air as footsteps approached both of you, and a familiar voice echoed out.

“Ghost?” Price called out as he drew nearer, his eyes growing wide in alarm when he saw a familiar tuft of curls peeking out from behind his colleague's shoulder. “Y/n? What the hell is going on out here?”

“Found her sneaking around past curfew,” Ghost answered. He deftly slipped his hand from underneath your jacket but didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Jesus, Ghost! She’s not a soldier.”

It wasn’t until Price batted him away from you that Ghost slowly backed off, leaving you slumped against the wall in a flustered mess as Price knelt down in front of you. His eyes were full of concern. You were sure that you looked like an absolute mess right now.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to touch your arm. But when he saw you flinch, he immediately retreated and raised his hands. “It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you. See? Harmless.”

He turned to Ghost, shooting him an exasperated look. “Congratulations, you scared her half to death.”

He turned back to you, looking a bit more worried than before. But you hesitated. What were you supposed to tell him? If you said you weren’t okay, he would ask you what happened. Then what? Do you say you were sneaking back from sleeping with one of his men past curfew and then his lieutenant groped you against the wall? That you could have said no, but didn’t? That you may have enjoyed it? That you may have just cheated on your boyfriend?

Over Price’s shoulder, you met eyes with Ghost again. The old, unreadable gaze had returned. But there was something else in his eyes. A promise? A warning? Whatever it was, it quickly helped you make up your mind as you nodded.

“I’m okay,” you answered quietly, head lowered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble with me. We do take rules pretty seriously around here, but I know all of this is very new to you too. Hell, I must have broken a million rules my first day on base. So I won’t give you a hard time for one little mistake. Just promise me you’ll remember the curfew next time, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I won't do it again..”

“Atta girl,” Price gave you a reassuring smile and stood back up. “But if you ever need anything after curfew, or any time for that matter, just knock on my door. I’m a few doors down from your room. And my name is on the door, so I’ll be easy to find.”

“Alright,” you gingerly pushed yourself off of the wall and back onto your own two feet. Thankfully, your legs didn’t give out this time. “Thank you, John.”

Apparently satisfied with your answer, Ghost turned and stomped back down the hall. He stopped in front of your room, standing like a sentry watching your every move. Giving John a sheepish smile, you slowly approached the door as he trailed behind. You didn’t need two people to walk you five steps to your room, but you were also in no position to voice complaints. You gave John a small nod as you grabbed the knob and he returned the gesture, telling you to have a good night before disappearing back the way he had come.

You turned it and stepped inside, but then stopped to glance over your shoulder to see if Ghost was still there. And like an unwanted shadow, he was. He was just standing there, arms crossed, as if to personally see to it that you actually went inside and remained there.

“Goodnight, Ghost,” you mumbled awkwardly.

He didn’t respond. He just stared as he slowly removed his gloves. The first, he tucked into a strap on the side of his vest. But the second bore a large, dark stain on its palm. It glistened in the fluorescent lighting, still bearing traces of your earlier encounter. That one, he carefully folded and slipped into his back pocket for safekeeping. The sick bastard was no doubt going to keep it as some perverted memento. One last simmering glance was all he gave you before he turned and opened the door directly across the hall from your own. So, that was where his room was. Great. Just great. It wasn’t until you had closed your door that you heard his own click shut. The message was clear.

“I’m watching you.”

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[a-french-coconut]

Travis Stoll (Part 8)

Persephone's garden is a breathtaking place, a gleaming spot amidst the grey shades of Asphodel and the charred earth of the Fields of Punishment.

It's gigantic, trees and flowers made of the most precious jewels spread further than he can see.

"Beautiful, is not ?"

"Did you do this all by yourself ?" asks Travis amazed as they walk trough the garden, each flower more exquisitely crafted than the other.

"Lord Hades gifted me this garden when I first arrived, he tried to make this place my home. As time passed, my garden grew more beautiful each winter."

They stop at a small clearing surrounded by small flowers.

"This is where grow all the medicinal flowers. Which one do you need ?"

"One that cures poison, my brother got attacked by a hellhound and he is set to die because of it. Only your flower can save him."

Persephone hums, a flower growing from her palm. It's small, fragile even. The green emeralds constituting the petals sparkling.

"This will cure your brother instantly, but unfortunately, I cannot give it to you freely."

"Why not ?" he protests, anger slowly boiling his veins. His brother's salvation is right there.

"You must understand the balance between life and death. If I were to give you the flower without receiving anything back, that balance would be broken. As Kore and Persephone, I cannot let this happen."

"What do you want in exchange then ?"

Beware of the price you are willing to pay

The prophecy echoes in Travis's mind, along with the promise he made to Will.

"What do you offer me, son of Hermes ? Your father is the god of trades, surely you didn't expect for me to hand you the flower without payment."

"Of course not." he lies, the small hopeful part of him that thought that Persephone would show compassion crushed like Minthe on the banks of the Cocytus.

It was foolish to think a divine being would understand what's it's like to lose someone they hold dear.

Not even the one who rules them and hears their sorrow constantly.

Hermes didn't show up when he prayed and prayed every night so that his mother would stop coming home drunk, passing out on the couch after screaming at Connor that he was a mistake.

Hermes didn't bother coming when he finally had the courage to call social services, his mother's screams about him being a bastard, a pathetic worthless son, resonating long after she left them.

Hermes didn't even knew they existed until they managed to steal from everyone at camp unnoticed, revealing the trick at campfire.

And despite all of that, he never hated him, never despised his father like Luke did. Because Hermes, certainly for him but nonetheless, gave him the best gift he ever received.

He gave him a brother, a person that would be there no matter what.

A reason to strive for a better life, one that wasn't on the streets or in foster homes.

A boy with the most beautiful smile and the loudest laugh, with the most unhinged plans and an atrocious crush on a son of Athena.

A boy dying ,with surely only a few hours left.

"Well ?", asks expectantly Persephone.

"Do you remember the wind, my lady ?"

"What ?"

"The wind caressing your face as you feel the sun on your skin. The wind blowing through the trees, whistling as you lay on the grass. The playful wind carrying you in the sky, making you dance with the clouds."

"I am a goddess, child. Those sensations you describe are meaningless to me."

He can see Persephone's hand trembling slightly, her eyes distant.

Liar

"Maybe now that you have grown used to Underworld my lady. But as a daughter of Zeus, have you never fly ? Perform tricks for your nymphs companions as your hear them laughing below ?"

Small, crystal tears drop on the ground, the Queen reminiscing a long time ago, one where she was named Kore.

"That's what I offer you in exchange of the flower, my wings. A divine part of me against my brother's life."

"I'm afraid it's not a fair trade little thief." whispers distantly Persephone.

"I think it is my lady. Those wings, they represent a life you lost when you became Queen of the Underworld. Not even when Lady Demeter greets you with spring do you become Kore fully again. I can help feel the wind again."

"Kore..." she whispers, "not even my mother calls me by that name anymore."

In front of Travis, Persephone shifts to a much younger girl, flowers braided in her hair, before transforming back.

Without a word, she hands him the flower.

As silent as she is, he takes it delicately and set it on the ground.

"Maia."

White wings flap on his ankles.

"Giving up a part of your godly essence is not a pleasant experience."

Travis gulps, a knot in his stomach tightening each second.

"I'm ready."

Quick as lighting, Persephone conjures a knife and cut off his wings.

Travis screams.

part 9 posted !

[learnfromkarl]

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[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.8

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst, hurt/comfort, extended sickfic?

summary: this fic started as an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who never learned how to love. tav is kind of emotionally repressed and a bad communicator too, and he has to learn how to deal with this. with her, and her … affliction.

He can’t even remember the last time someone asked him what he wanted. In centuries of service, even the warmest victims were there for nothing more than midnight fun, unknowingly biting off far more than they could chew. It’s better that way, though. It’s always easier when he can’t remember their names or faces after, and he only ever remembered the ones that were sweet.

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut I totally posted this on ao3 forever ago and forgot to post it here

His mind swims while his fingers mend her clothes, re-stitching torn seams and mending rips he’d been staring at for weeks wanting to fix but refusing to be caught doing it. Astarion ponders over everything he said and did yesterday and how he could’ve done it all better; he thinks if he had another chance, he could’ve said something better than ‘I don’t know’, but it’s a foolish thought—even as he actively tries to convince himself, no other words bubble up and he knows damn well that’s the best he has.

He’s floundering thinking of what he’d say to her, but his mind just keeps fucking swimming and he’s so, so sure that if he’d had one more moment with her, he’d somehow manage to finish sentences cut short or have difficult conversations with her he hadn’t yet learned how to have with himself.

As he watches her body rise and fall with her breaths, it’s all he can think about.

Maybe he should’ve said the truth, he thinks: that he had it beaten into him to never care for another, that he’s bitter with her for saving everyone except him when the Gods never answered any of his prayers, and that he doesn’t know how to dig out of this grave of resentment he’s buried himself in despite how hopelessly charmed by her he is.

Every conversation they ever had starts to feel like it wasn’t enough, going all the way back to the night in the Underdark when he’d given her his coat. Though the truth of it is that he had plenty of time every time, and he chose to squander it.

It hurts to see her like this, with her body battered and bruised and too exhausted to wake…

It’s his own fault, he’s decided. He accepted an offer from Raphael and now she pays the price for it. Oddly, that’s all he ever thought he wanted: for someone to suffer in his stead, but he didn’t mean it like this! Not her. 

Even worse, he pushed her into this—he questioned her when she tried to talk their way out of the fight (if only he’d ever learned how to have trust or faith in anyone) and he felt so off-balance during the fight he picked, allowing his mind to be clouded by a daft eagerness to get the shit over with and reap his reward.

Merregons got the better of her, crowding her and beating her bloody. He shouted when he noticed, calling for Karlach, Lae’zel, Gale, anyone—but they were all surrounded and by the time anyone made it to her, she was already down and out. None of them came out the other side entirely unscathed, but she was the only one who couldn’t carry themselves back to camp.

They remained settled at the Last Light Inn, trapped with nowhere else to go, and he fucking hates it here. Despite their efforts to clean up, every direction held some reminder of what used to be: blood stains they couldn’t get out, strewn about possessions, and an eerie emptiness that forced you to picture how it’d been when it was bustling and happy. Astarion doesn’t grieve for their lives, but he can’t push out the image of how distraught she was that night it all happened; how she wept and begged him to give her purpose will be burned into his brain for eternity.

Already, two full days have passed with her in this bed and Shadowheart and Halsin taking turns caring for her and breathing life back into her body little by little, while Astarion sits in his chair and simply waits.

Raphael came and went, fulfilling his end of the deal promptly. He paid Astarion a visit the same evening the orthon appeared in his humble abode and told him everything he’d asked for: details of Cazador’s deal with Mephistopheles and the tale of how poems carved into their backs bound them to a vile ritual that would sacrifice their souls for a higher power never seen by his kind before.

Ascension. 

Astarion received his reward, but he couldn’t find any satisfaction in it. Not like this—not standing outside the inn alone, and even though only a thin wall sat between him and the room Tav lay unconscious in, he felt halfway across the world from her. Raphael left him there and it all felt like a cruel mockery: the price to be paid for his deal wasn’t even paid by him. He dragged Tav along for this and forced her hand and he never thought twice about it.

Until she couldn’t walk anymore. 

He remembers it so clearly, hauntingly vivid—how he tore apart his foe and ran to her bloodied body, how he held her and shook her and she didn't wake, how he was nothing more than a useless bystander, watching hopelessly while Karlach carried her and Halsin tended to her…

He needs to be by her side, he needs to be in that chair when she wakes, and he hasn’t moved since Raphael left him here. 

He’s deep in trance when she wakes, startled into consciousness by her tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt; he jumps in his chair and looks over to her, pausing for a moment as he fully comes back to the present and processes it.

“Gods, you’re awake,” he says, relief washing over him as he sits up and starts to stand. “Let me get—”

“No!” she protests in a low mumble, slowly sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Tell me what happened first.”

Astarion stops in his seat and starts to speak, “You—you were surrounded…”

“Not that,” she scoffs. “The deal!”

“Oh, don’t talk to me in that voice of yours,” he retorts. “You should be mad at me, you should chastise me! I took the devil’s deal all on my own, without even giving you a choice in the matter.”

“You’re wrong,” she says. “Just tell me what Raphael said.”

Astarion hesitates, taken by surprise; even after being bloodied and bruised and bedridden, she insists on hearing about his deal, first thing…

But he tells her everything, powerless to resist her demands.

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“I think it’s time for you to get Shadowheart,” she says with a cheeky smile.

He’s obviously miffed by her dodge but he does it regardless, returning Tav’s grin with an annoyed sigh as he gets up from his seat and fetches Shadowheart.

When he walks out, Tav eyes her clothes by his chair, neatly folded and washed clean.

The door creaks as Shadowheart enters, carrying a tray of food; stew and bread, the standard fare lately. The shadowlands have so little to offer for fresh food, but Tav feels her mouth watering the moment she lays eyes on it, stomach growling, and lights up as Shadowheart takes Astarion’s chair.

“How are you faring?”

“Sore, but well enough for poking the fire,” Tav answers.

“You know,” Shadowheart starts once Tav’s stuffed her mouth, “outside of talking with Raphael, he hasn’t left this room for a moment.”

Tav swallows hard. 

Shadowheart picks up the mended shirt by the chair and turns it in her hands, looking it over. “Skilled with his hands,” she notes with a hearty laugh. 

“Gods, stop it,” Tav chokes out, quickly swallowing the last of her food and laughing, too, and it aches her body but hells, a real laugh is what she needs right now. “I don’t know what’s happening with us.”

“You’re softening his cold heart, and dare I say he needs it.”

“No,” she replies. “His heart’s already soft… in some places, anyway. He just doesn’t know it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to believe it.”

When Shadowheart opens the door and leaves, it’s made very clear to both of them that Astarion was standing right outside, arms crossed and waiting to trade places. He picks her shirt back up when he sits, feeling a bit antsy and in dire need of something to occupy his hands, but he’s already mended every hole; now, he’s started carefully stitching her name in curved script into it, much like he did for his own shirts on long days and nights spent in the Szarr palace.

“So—”

“I think walking in the sun is very important to you.”

“And the power!” Astarion’s face livens instantly as he talks, giddy at the prospect of seizing the Ascension for himself. “I’d never have to fear anyone… and I could walk in the sun without fear of turning into a mind flayer.”

She can relate to that more than he knows. She chased power once too, and it cost her a sibling. The worst part of it all is that she’d do it all over again given the choice. Her patron bestowed her with great, elder powers after living as a street urchin, spit on and ignored by society for so long—and even with an illithid tadpole shoved into her brain, even after being surrounded and taken down in battle, even after questioning it that night in the cemetery, she remembers what it was like before and she wouldn’t give it up for nearly anything. 

Besides, if she hadn’t chased the deal, it would’ve been something else. He would’ve left either way, whether it be the stealing or the pact or the souls she slaughtered in the name of revenge. He’d always been too gentle-hearted, and every time Astarion spits on her for being ‘too generous’, she thinks of how much she always hated her brother for the very same.

But even Raphael called the ritual diabolical, and he’d have to kill his brothers and sisters to do it… the brothers and sisters who endured the same punishments and torture as he had. Astarion pretends to care only for himself, but when he told her he pitied them with him gone, it was beyond evident how much he cares—he just wishes he doesn’t.

Astarion seems to be well-trained in confidently presenting himself as how he wishes he feels. 

Tav would support him in completing the ritual himself in a heartbeat if she wasn’t so certain he does care and that he would regret it later. It would change him, she thinks, and not for the better. 

But now’s not the time to dwell on that. They don’t even know what the ritual entails. Not yet. 

She shifts over to the very edge of the bed and rests her palm on his forearm, prompting him to drop the needle and thread and set her shirt back aside. As he does, she spots the start of her name on it, in lovely gold thread on navy fabric.

“Will you kiss me?” she asks, hopeful to drag him away from dwelling on the ritual now. “It’ll make me feel better.”

“Oh, will it now?” Astarion gives her a half-smile and holds her face in one palm with a gentle—thoughtful—touch. “Then who am I to deny you?”

Tav lightly grasps at his upper arm as he closes his eyes and captures her mouth in his; this time, his kiss is sweet and tender and deliberate, not wary, not heated, not anything but what feels like a true labor of…

…love?

“The other night when you asked me what’s between us,” Astarion starts as they part, eyes fixated on her mouth as he speaks, “What would you like it to be?” 

“What do you want it to be, Astarion?”

“I-I don’t know,” he says, taken aback. “It’s never mattered what I want. No one ’s ever asked.”

He can’t even remember the last time someone asked him what he wanted. In centuries of service, even the warmest victims were there for nothing more than midnight fun, unknowingly biting off far more than they could chew.

It’s better that way, though. It’s always easier when he can’t remember their names or faces after, and he only ever remembered the ones that were sweet.

“I’m asking you now,” she replies.

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, it appears I have plenty of time to sit and listen. So please, go on.”

Astarion brushes off her hand as he folds his arms, turning his gaze away from her and towards the ceiling, and they sit in silence for a moment as he considers what to say. Part of him hopes she’ll say something else and move on, but the rest of him knows that it’s finally time to have this conversation that he’s been neglecting.

Especially after spending the days and nights in this same fucking chair thinking about how he should’ve said it all months ago.

“I wasn’t just a slave to Cazador,” he says with a notable lack of confidence. He shuffles nervously and takes a long pause, inhaling deeply before continuing. “For two centuries, my purpose”—he practically hisses as he begins to recount it—“was to bring back pretty things for the master. Seduce them, lure them to the palace and leave them for Cazador to dine on… It never mattered what I wanted. if I didn’t obey, he’d have me beaten, impaled, or worse.”

His eyes pace around the room, gnawing for anywhere else he can look and digging for what to say. He doesn’t feel like himself, he almost feels sick. It’s too much, but he has to say it all now or he’ll never say it and it’ll loom over his head and the next time she takes so much as a single scrape in battle he’ll be distracted by it all over again.

“It was instinctual for me… to fall back into old habits and charm you, gain your trust, manipulate your feelings and ensure your loyalty. I needed you on my side to fight him, and I did that the only way I—”

“I am on your side. No matter what.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ll be as ridiculous as I like.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn. Look,” he continues, “I must’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more, and none of them meant anything at all; most didn’t even grant me a temporary bliss. But you…

“It was different with you. I’ll never forget the time I spent with you. I want—fuck, what I want is for this to be something real.”

Manipulating someone, getting them in bed, using them for his own benefit—all things he can do, things he is very well-versed in doing, at that. Losing himself in her was a complication. He is not so well-versed in complications. 

“I do, too,” she says quietly.

“Truth is, you make me feel alive again,” he admits, anxiously wiping his brow. “But I don’t know what real looks like, and I can’t give you what you deserve,” Astarion says, turning to face her; and whatever she may have expected to see, it wasn’t this—this awful, gloomy look he wears, like he’s in pain just thinking about this and admitting to it all. “Even though I know things between us are different, it still brings up all these feelings of hatred and self-loathing…”

“We don’t have to sleep together, for as long as you need. For forever, if thats what you’d prefer,” she says. “You’re important to me—however you are, whatever you’re dealing with.”

A small relief, but Astarion hopes for it to somehow come and fix it all like magic, and it never happens. Relief doesn’t make it any easier to get through this this. Relief doesn’t organize his thoughts or teach him how make someone happy. Without sex, what does he have left to offer? He never did figure that one out.

“I never learned how to care for anyone but myself. Cazador always made sure I knew that,” Astarion rebuts, as if he’s searching for any reason to send her away—get her to set her sights elsewhere, maybe back on Gale…

He can’t help but do it; much as he’d like this to be something real with her, he’s certain it’ll end in nothing but disappointment and he knows that’ll hurt worse than not having her at all.

“Oh, fuck Cazador! It’s not true, you know,” Tav protests. “If it were, you wouldn’t be in this room right now. Gods know I don’t know what the fuck real looks like, either, but it doesn’t matter. We—we can figure it out together, can’t we?”

Astarion’s brows lower and he looks at her in disbelief for a moment; ‘figure it out together’ is… beyond what he could’ve anticipated coming from her mouth.

Oh, she is stubborn, but perhaps that’s what he needs in a partner. Maybe he’s not even ready for this, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he’s in it too deep to back out. Not having her at all is a path impossible to take now, no matter how hard he could keep trying to shove her out.

“We—we can try?” he questions with an indecisive tone, though it’s really more of a surprised agreement. “If that’s truly what you want.”

The freedom to choose your own path is a foreign concept—fuck, is that really what he’s doing? Choosing his own path? He always thought it would feel different from this, that it would be more controlled and comprehensible; like he’d have a plan, some sort of routine to reference for his life, as with how he’d memorized and carried out the plans for his conquests, just… a little different.

“It’s what I want. More than anything,” she says, sniffling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“What’s…” Astarion’s voice trails off as he considers what to say next. Navigating this is beyond any of his expertise, and he almost feels like he did in the early days of Cazador sending him out to find victims when he was still learning how to just—just be fucking normal. It was decades before the master let him out, and after so many years stuck inside and subjected to punishment after punishment, he’d nearly forgotten how to speak. “What’s troubling you?”

“I’m fine. Gods, I’m more than fine,” she says, giggling as she wipes the tears from her cheek. “Will you lay with me? I understand if—”

“Move over,” he orders with a shooing hand gesture. 

His heart would beat out of his chest if it could; there’s something about lying together in a bed in an inn, however decrepit and dreadful to reside in, that’s far more intimate than the nights she slept in his tent. Trepidation pumps through his body like blood.

And then, after he lifts the covers and settles in beside her, it simply dries up. 

Tav starts to reach out for his hand, but stops short of it. “Can I touch you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he answers, though truthfully, he loves that she does. It’s sweet. It’s unusual. 

“I want to,” she says, prying apart his fingers with hers and interlocking them.

He could live in this moment forever. When she looks at him, there’s a special, heavenly look in her eyes that he never wants to lose. A pity for the lives lived without ever experiencing it. No one would ever look at someone like Cazador the way she’s looking at him now.

It’s hypnotizing and makes him want to give her the fucking world—and ascend, for more than himself, because this is so, so much bigger than him.

[managedserversus]

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