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scarlet-streak-fanfics · 3 days ago

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Date Everything Headcanon: A New House

Hello! Last night I was thinking about Eddie and Volt’s Realization ending and some posts about the player moving out of the house after everyone leaves and my brain spit this out. The focus is on Eddie and Volt, but I’ll have as many characters joining in as possible. For now, it’s only a set of headcanons, but if people are interested in oneshots or even a fic I’d be happy to write it! Just let me know. My ask box is open for requests!

Before you read, this will have spoilers for Realization endings and I want to tack on a content warning just in case. There will be some themes of loneliness and OCD/Hoarding, but I won’t be going too into depth. If you want a scale, it’ll be much less intense than Jerry–maybe closer to Hoove’s thing.

The Discovery

Eddie and Volt are very much caught up in their own lives and business for a while–after all, starting a Real Estate business is no easy task. You’re there to cheer them on from the sidelines, and they visit when they can. It’s just almost always meeting up at a bar or club for a quick drink, dance, or chat.

Once they settle in a bit better, however, the two start visiting you at home. Eddie’s mostly focused on making sure the electrical panel and the house’s wiring is in working order (and not going to burn the place down), so it’s Volt who spends time with you. Over the course of their visits, he notices that something seems to have changed.

It’s little things at first. You’re quieter, more subdued, and the hugs you give them before they leave feel just a little bit tighter. Then one day he comments on how the wall paper upstairs might need replacing–the corner’s been peeling for years, after all–and you immediately shut it down. When he tries to have a discussion about it, you accidentally refer to the wall as ‘him�� before shutting down completely.

That’s when Volt notices something–the house has not changed since the day the last object-turned-human left for their new lives. Koa had sent you new furniture pieces, he knows, but none can be found anywhere in the house. There’s a fine layer of dust on most surfaces, and every object he lifts leaves behind a perfect indentation to mark where it “should” be.

It takes a few more visits for the two of them to finally bring it up to you, and the reason you give them is heartbreaking: not only do you miss your friends and lovers, but a part of you is afraid they’re still somehow connected to their original objects. What if you vacuum up all the dust bunnies and something happens to Dolly? Would accidentally knocking over the ship-in-a-bottle that was once Jacques be breaking him?

Eddie and Volt’s hearts break as they realize the accidental hell you’ve trapped yourself into, and sure, maybe Eddie is supposed to be working on not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but they decide they can make an exception just this once for their Live Wire. They know they can’t leave you alone in this empty house terrified that any change will ruin the lives you’d worked so hard to give to the dozens of people you’d grown to love.

The Intervention

The first step is a lot of phone calls, starting with Teddy, Jerry, Chance, and Lady Memoria. Chance’s certifications in Psychology come in handy for talking you through your fears, especially with Jerry there to remind you of how you helped him. Sure, his junk wasn’t exactly alive in the same way these objects had been, but it’s nice to not feel alone. When things get to be too much, Teddy is there for a comforting hug and encouragement. That’s when their fifth guest arrives: Beau.

When they first propose the plan to you, you’re absolutely against it. However, Beau reasons, she was the embodiment of every cardboard box in the house, not just a single object. It wouldn’t kill her to lose just one. Besides, if it will help you, she’d gladly embark on such a treacherous adventure–what’s one hand or ear in the grand scheme of things? If anything, she’ll have an incredible story to tell her campers.

Once that first box is carefully cut down to a more manageable size with a box cutter and placed in the trash without any harm to Beau, that’s when you break down with relief. From that point on, it’s time for Memoria to take over–with some help, of course.

Objects are sorted into three categories: Functioning, Non-Functioning, and Fixed. One by one, the people that represent the parts of the house you absolutely can’t take with you visit to reassure you that they won’t be hurt by being left behind. By the time Jean-Loo is dragged in both to apologize for his silence and tell you that it’s alright to not take actual toilets with you, you’re feeling rather silly about the whole thing. Most of their visits are, of course, spent reminiscing and enjoying each other’s company, beginning to fill the void you didn’t even know existed.

For the non-functioning category, Hoove and Freddy actually encourage you to buy replacements for the objects they used to be. All the major appliances in the house that you could take with you are either past the end of their warranty or just about at the end, and they all agree they’d rather you have safer, better functioning ones than get caught up on sentimentality. Again, each of them gets a tight hug upon departure, leaving behind a promise to visit or at least communicate a bit more often.

Finally, the functioning category. Memoria gives you four options: keep, storage, trash, or offer it to the person themselves so they can decide. You and Lyric split your book collection, well-read copies full of sentimental value that even a first edition couldn’t replace, Diana encourages you to keep using your diary, and Barry is delighted to take you to replace your old cosmetics with new ones.

Weeks of work pass, and once it’s just you, Jerry, Teddy, Chance, and Lady Memoria left, the house is emptier, sure, but much lighter. You thank them with tearful hugs and whispers of love and support. Then, finally, you’re alone–that is, until Volt and Eddie arrive and ask you to come with them.

The Surprise

It’s a short drive to their newest property acquisition, one spent with quiet conversation about how you’re feeling. You thank them for caring enough to help pull you out of that hole you were in, and Eddie simply smiles while Volt tells you not to thank them just yet.

The house they lead you into is quite a bit bigger than your old place. Eddie talks about the work he’s put into redoing the ventilation, electrical, and plumbing while Volt paints a picture of what each room could be–a gym and an office, of course, but also plenty of guest rooms, a library, a music room, and even a game room. Finally, at the end of the tour, they make you an offer: your old house for this one. A fresh start, one where you’ll have room for the friends and lovers that you now know miss you just as much as you miss them will be able to come and visit–or even stay with you fully with their own spaces–to spend time with you and engage in the activities that you’d bonded over.

When asked about the price difference between the two properties, they simply wave it off, telling you not to worry. The secret? Several of your more successful object-turned-human loved ones decided to chip in to cover the cost. It’s a gift made with love and care–after all, none of them want their beloved human to be alone. That house had, for many of them, been a veritable prison. They can’t stand to leave you to that same fate.

Koa was overjoyed when you finally accepted his gifts of new furniture, with each and every couch and bed that passed through your door stamped with his utmost seal of approval. Washford and Drysdale insisted upon handling the landscaping themselves, and both your front and back yards became the envy of all your new neighbors. Artt, Daisuke, and Hector took it upon themselves to ensure artworks of every kind had a place on the walls and surfaces. By the time everyone who wanted to had left some sort of personal touch on your new abode and you and those who had chosen to take up a more permanent residence had finished settling in, the place was bursting with the life and love that you hadn’t even known you’d been missing.

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taomyou · 1 month ago

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digimon fan!nerdjo headcanons (crest edition)

i assigned gojo the crest of light in nerds do it better and i want to explain my reasoning for that since i think it's a neat detail. let me know if you have any other questions or curiosities about the digimon related details i put in that fic, and i'll make another one of these posts ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ mild digimon adventure 01 spoilers. mild angst but overall very happy and feel-good. also thanks for 100 followers :P background info: a crest is a symbol, and in the digimon anime, the main characters (referred to as "the digidestined") are given necklaces with a crest that correspond to their most prominent trait (ex: courage, love, friendship, etc). the crest will light up once the trait is fully realized, and their digimon partner will digivolve to ultimate level. the crests in the anime have specific colors (sincerity, light, knowledge, etc), but a lot of people nowadays custom order them to fit their own preferences. it's also fairly common practice in the digimon fandom to assign yourself a crest read nerds do it better here and other digimon fan!nerdjo headcanons here

digimon fan!nerdjo who watched Digimon Adventure 01 and 02 because they had DVDs of it at the local library near his childhood home. he'd go on to watch the other seasons, of course, but Adventure holds a special place in his heart as the first piece of media he ever really connected with as a young boy. the feelings of grief, loss, heartbreak, and found family he felt when he watched it for the first time stay with him, even though he was barely 8 and couldn't really process what was happening

digimon fan!nerdjo whose favorite Digimon Adventure character as a child was tai. i mean, he's the main character, why wouldn't gojo think he's the coolest of the original digidestined? gojo got an agumon plushie for christmas the same year he started renting out the DVDs from the library, too, so it makes sense that gojo favored that duo over the others. sure, gojo still liked all the other characters, but, as a kid, he also really looked up to tai. gojo was never really all that outgoing growing up, always stuck at tutoring or the activities his parents forced him into, so it was easy to admire a character whose primary trait was courage. gojo could hardly stand up for himself to his coaches and tutors, nevermind his own family, so he dreamt of, one day, receiving the crest of courage and finally having the willpower to do what he actually wanted to

digimon fan!nerdjo who, honestly, just didn't really like the color orange, so he never bought the necklace associated with the crest he wanted. he still wanted to think courage would be the crest he'd have, even if it didn't feel like it fit him at all, but he's not going to wear an orange necklace if he doesn't have to

satoru gojo who didn't have time to indulge in digimon anymore. he'd spent so much time watching the series, playing the games, collecting trinkets as a kid, but his parents decided it was time for him to finally grow out of it before he started middle school. it didn't bother him that much—he knew it was a kid's show—but part of him still wished he was allowed to keep it close to him. turns out, the crest of courage never really was meant for him. he still kept all the goggles he wore in his room, his agumon plushie is still at his pillow every night, and he sometimes doodles calumon's Zero Unit when he's bored in class, but digimon becomes a childhood memory that he can't afford to hold onto anymore when he has more responsibilities

satoru gojo who, between the summer of his first and second year of high school, passed by that old library again after grabbing a quick bite to eat with his friends, and came inside to see whether or not the Adventure DVDs were still there. just for nostalgia's sake, really. he didn't expect to run into the library technician from when he was in primary school to be there

"oh, gojo! it's been a while since we've seen you around, the staff all miss you dearly! what're you up to these days? are you still into those digimon things?"

gojo blinks at her, surprised that she even remembers him after so many years. granted, he'd sit at the tables in their children's area after school and color in Digimon coloring pages the librarians would print out for him when he had nowhere else to be and nobody to watch him (which was... pretty often, actually), but he didn't think anyone would notice he'd been gone

"just school, after-school clubs, spending time with my friends," he smiles nervously. "and, uh, not really." it's a strange feeling: being brought back to the past

satoru gojo who, despite his answer, gets pulled to a section of the library where the DVDs are kept and is shown all the new digimon DVDs on the shelves. all the seasons of the anime, the movies, there's even a few game discs tucked in-between them. the library tech tells him that they'd been slowly building the collection because some of the other children that came around became curious about the Digimon coloring pages that were hung up in the study area, but that gojo never came back around by the time it was actually being put together

satoru gojo who leaves the library with the same Adventure DVDs he loaned out when he was a kid, and sneaks them into his room so his parents don't ask why he's so jittery. he puts them into the DVD player, and he sits crisscross applesauce on the floor as the TV lights up and the menu screen appears, the nostalgic beeps and techno sounds filling the dark

satoru gojo who bawls his eyes out for the rest of the night, feeling all those feelings he'd felt the first time he watched this when he was a young boy. sure, the writing is clunky at times, some of the characters make awful decisions that make him want to break the television screen, and the Digi-Rap is much cornier than he remembered it being, but the story has all the heart he remembers it having and even more. he couldn't properly appreciate everything it had to offer when he was a child, but now that he's older and seen a tiny bit more of the world, he sees the show for what it is. his glasses are long abandoned, too much of an inconvenience when he has to company wipe away his tears with his blankets

satoru gojo whose eyes have already run out of tears to cry by episode 37 of season 1, "Wizardmon's Gift." instead, he has to turn off the TV and sit in the darkness of his room to reflect. he's watched wizardmon die before, but he only now fully understands how much it meant for kari to activate her crest, digivolve gatomon into angewomon, and finally kill her abuser. he thinks about kari, how she never gave up, even when gatomon resisted their partnership and would run away all the time. he eventually gets up from the floor and turns the TV back on to finish the rest of the season, occasionally having to switch in DVDs as the episodes go on, but it stays with him that the crest of light resonates with him deeply, even if he can't quite pinpoint why

satoru gojo who spends the rest of his summer replaying what he watched as a kid, watching what's come out since, and catching up on everything he's missed. it's a lot to get through, but considering this summer is the only free time he's going to have, he figures he might as well make the most of it. he hides it as best he can, biting his tongue when he sees something out in public that reminds him of a moment in the anime or when he wants to make a reference to a game, but there's moments he slips up and mentions staying up late to beat a final boss or catches himself smiling at random alleyways that remind him of backgrounds in the anime. nobody seems to really care, which confuses him, but he still keeps it to himself

satoru gojo who hesitates at his desk, looking at the ordering site. he'd found the link on a fandom forum page, and it's going to be his final goodbye to the Digital World. not like anyone would be able to even identify the necklace as Digimon-related, anyway, so it wouldn't be any issue if he were to order one for himself. he has no idea what crest to choose now, though

satoru gojo who knows already that some of them are absolutely not befitting of him. the crest of love when he isn't even sure he's ever loved anything at all, the crest of friendship when he's only just started making real friends when he'd started high school and met suguru and shoko, the crest of knowledge when he's barely interested in anything in school apart from physics. he thinks harder on it; what crest could possibly fit him? it's his one shot at keeping the Digital World close to him, so he's gotta get it right this time

satoru gojo who takes an online quiz to try and figure it out that way. there's hundreds of them around, one of them's gotta be right. on his first try, he gets assigned courage, then sincerity, then knowledge, then courage again. it really isn't any help to his dilemma. it's partially his fault, he thinks, because he's probably not honest enough with himself to do these quizzes properly and actually get results that fit him, but whatever. he gets frustrated after another hour or three later when he still can't come to any realizations about it, so he clicks back to the ordering site

satoru gojo who just orders the crest of light in the color blue. he figures, if he can't figure out what crest actually fits him, he'll go with the one with his favorite design. he enjoyed kari's arc in the show the most anyway in his most recent rewatch, so he doesn't mind that his heart isn't entirely in it (yet)

satoru gojo who gets his crest necklace in the mail a few weeks later. his friends are over at his house, lounging around and eating snacks before they need to head out for karaoke. he opens the package in front of them, forgetting what it was, and they're all decently confused when they sit around him and he's pulling out the necklace tag. gojo's praying and praying that none of them can recognize it, and, thankfully none of them say anything. he rushes to his room to put it away in his desk drawer, and the group of them are out the door and off to go meet with the others at the private room they had booked

satoru gojo who comes home and tries on the necklace before going to bed. it feels weird on him, strangely warm against his always-cold body, but he figures it's just his throat killing him from going too hard on his solo song. can't even be mad about it, he knows he was born to sing "Clarity" at the top of his lungs. if not that, then the pain is from him, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara going at it on "Heart Attack." he goes to lay down with the necklace still on, fiddling with the tag as he tries to find sleep, and he finds it quickly enough

satoru gojo who starts wearing the necklace underneath all his clothes, only ever taking it off to shower. it becomes a good luck charm at some point: a good maths test score here, a win for his favorite basketball team there, a snowy day when he needs an excuse to not go to a family dinner party. sometimes the tag will pop out over his clothes and someone will ask what necklace he's wearing, but he just waves them off and tells them it's just because it matches his eyes

satoru gojo who feels like an imposter wearing it. he hardly even understands what the crest of light even means, so why's it become so engrained in the way he regards himself? he does little things here and there to try and understand it better: goes out of his way to rewatch the relevant episodes through clips on youtube, reflects on what parts of the crestholder's arc feel relatable to him, tries to be... lighter on himself

satoru gojo who swears nothing's changed—he still pays close attention in his studies, he still loiters in convenience store parking lots with his friends after-school, he still attends robotics even though he's sure their bot isn't winning any damn awards this season—but people around him start noticing something

satoru gojo looks... happier

satoru gojo who unknowingly willed himself to realize the crest of light in his own right. his light, now found in-between the pages of his search for the meaning of some unspoken part of his character, rubs off on those around him. he drags shoko with him when she mentions needing someone to go look at backpack accessories with, he offers to drive them to the nearby tea shop suguru likes when he notices that his friend needs a pick-me-up, he lends nanami the chemistry notes from when he missed class for his family's trip to malaysia at the beginning of spring (...he also slides him a copy of the answers for the stoichiometry quiz nanami missed and had to retake; neither of them ever bring it up again, but nanami buys him a carton of strawberry milk later that week as his own thank you)

satoru gojo who gets asked by haibara what his necklace means at a pool party during the summer before his third year of high school. the two of them are lounging at the pool chairs, relishing in their victory in the group's three-way chicken fight while the others are duking it out for second place. and maybe it's because haibara is so easy to talk to or because the weather is great that day and he thinks his words will disappear in the wind (or maybe he's finally come to terms with the fact it means so much to him now), but he tells him. just about unloads a lifetime's worth of Digimon lore, story beats, digivolution mechanics. haibara listens as he takes bites from his watermelon slice, nodding enthusiastically as gojo rambles even though he's got no idea what's really going on

satoru gojo who decides, from that point on, that the crest of light does, indeed, suit him perfectly, and that there's no point in hiding his fascination with the franchise anymore. his parents disapprove, telling him that he needs to focus his attention on other things, but there's only so much they can lecture him for when his grades remain as stellar as they've always been. they're not really around often enough, anyway, so gojo doesn't really care about what they have to say about it anymore

satoru gojo who is loud about his rediscovered obsession. he plasters stickers all over his car, his friends know to each pitch in ¥50 so he can grab a DTCG booster pack on their walks home after school at the comic book store, and he assigns them all their own crests and gets them the corresponding necklaces in their favorite colors that christmas (which they all keep safe in its original packaging and on their nightstands, not that gojo needs to know that). they wear the necklaces whenever they think gojo needs something to cheer him up, though, or whenever he has a class presentation because they know he'll look for them in the crowd. at his graduation, they all even took pictures together at the front gate with their crests glowing under the afternoon sun, and gojo swore he'd never cried happy tears like that before

digimon fan!nerdjo who hums when, years later and on a walk to his car after a study/DTCG session at the library, you ask why he wears the crest of light. the two of you have been friends for months now, meeting up on campus to study together, play DTCG, and try as many desserts in your little college town as possible, but the topic of your crest assignments never came up before. gojo smiles wistfully, reaching up to tug at his crest tag, and he looks over at you, your crest of sincerity tag glowing under the sunset rays

digimon fan!nerdjo who's glad that, after so many years of feeling misunderstood, he has someone who he knows will listen to him in earnest about his interests and can really understand him. as soon as he opens his mouth to answer, you're right there with him, hanging off his every word and asking questions that he knows how to answer from his heart, and he feels his crest glowing

anyways go read nerds do it better

#nerds do it better.tao #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nerd gojo #nerdjo #jjk x you

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chervbs · 2 years ago

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undying devotion — a. ancunin

pairings: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: you have a very limited time to free everyone, including duke ravenguard, from the iron throne. It seems easy enough until you realize you may not make it out before gortash destroys the entire prison, and you along with it. and with your new but thriving relationship with your vampiric companion, you have more to lose than just your life.

warnings: angst, mega angst, main character death, spoilers for act 3 (specifically the iron throne quest), mentions of c*zador, resurrection, hurt/comfort, happy ending, maybe ooc astarion because I’m still getting used to writing these characters, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: hello my angels! I hope you all enjoy this short little angsty piece I came up with for everyones favorite vampire. anonymous requested some angst for astarion and I immediately thought of this moment that happened in my first playthrough of the game where the only person I couldn't get out of the iron throne was my tav. it was a scary moment until I remembered what my man withers was there for. the characters in the game don't actually have a reaction to tav not making it out so I came up with this. any feed back is greatly appreciated! <3

ao3 link

Of all the battles fought between the crash of the Nautiloid ship and now, the Iron Throne is proving to be potentially the most perilous.

The plan had seemed simple when you all waited for the submersible to dock the underwater prison. Get in, free as many prisoners as possible, and get out. Of course the creatures guarding the prison would be an obstacle, but your party had defeated a plethora of foes before, how difficult could this mission be?

You all shared the sentiment, until the projection of Lord Enver Gortash had made an appearance.

“Aren’t you the intrepid little adventurer?” The man’s smug voice startled everyone aboard, shoulders growing tense and glares growing fierce. “Digging and diving where you don’t belong. And I thought we were friends.”

Astarion watched as you squared your shoulders, looking the projection right in the eyes. “Fuck you, Gortash.” The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but it didn’t last.

Gortash made it clear that if you continued on your quest, he would destroy the Iron Throne, and you all with it.

You had glanced back, communicating with Astarion, Halsin, and Karlach silently. Each of you wonder if this is worth the stakes. Worth all of the lives that could be lost if you failed. Then you looked at your captain, Redhammer the Deviser, and nodded for him to dock the ship.

“That was a mistake.” Gortash scowled. “When the corpses start to wash up on the shore, remember–you could have prevented all of this.”

There wasn’t much time after you docked to accomplish what you came for, so the four of you climbed the ladder with swiftness. The moment you stepped down, your tadpole began to wriggle as a familiar voice spoke to you.

“Halt. You must act with haste. Duke Ravenguard is held within these walls. He must be extracted.” It was unmistakably Omeluum, the mindflayer you’d made friends with in the Underdark.

You knew there was no time for questions. “Tell me what to do.”

“Duke Ravenguard is held in the security wing. Be careful, there are many hazards. This structure is collapsing. Act with speed, act with efficiency. Good luck.”

Swords, arrows and spells were used to get you all through the prison with haste. The Sahugin guards were inconvenient, but not the priority. You only attacked when they were in your way, and dodged them the rest of the time.

Astarion and Halsin were able to make it to Duke Ravenguard, freeing and healing him while also taking down the obstacles sent by Mizora. The security was the closest to the center of the ship and the two men made quick work of the guards still lingering there.

You and Karlach had each taken separate wings, hoping to free as many people as you could. Karlach freed the few prisoners in her wing before she came across Omeluum. Once he was freed, he was able to teleport the two of them back onto the submersible.

It was only as you fought your way through yours that you regretted not bringing someone else with you. The wing you took held the most prisoners and it seemed as if every guard your companions didn’t defeat decided to flock to the area.

Time was running out and you knew it. Your tadpole wriggled again.

“You must return. The prison will be destroyed any moment now.” Omeluum warned. His voice was monotone as any other mind flayer, but you could sense veiled concern.

You took one last look at the crowd of Sahugin in front of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You lacked enough energy to be able to misty step back to the entrance, and there was no time to look for a useful scroll.

“Did everyone make it on board?” You asked, slashing the guards in front of you.

“Indeed.”

You sighed, tears welling. “Then tell them I’m sorry.”

Astarion was the last to climb aboard the submersible after Halsin. Water sprayed onto the platform as the structure began to give way. Halsin reached down to grab his forearms, pulling him the rest of the way. He’d just barely began to search for you within the ship when Karlach spoke up.

“Where’s Tav?” She asked shakily, as if she had already realized the answer.

Astarion’s eyes widened, as did everyone’s. “No.” He whispered, darting over to the window.

There was a split second before the explosion, the force of it rumbling within the water. “No!” He cried, knees buckling as he collapsed.

Karlach slapped a hand over her mouth, tears already falling from her eyes like a waterfall. Halsin bowed his head, sad eyes closing as Astarion lets out a heart wrenching scream.

It didn’t matter to him that his companions had never seen him so distraught, not even after he’d delivered the killing blow to Cazador. No, this pain was entirely different.

This pain was like having his heart ripped out, then his soul extracted then his body mutilated. Every part of him ached in a way he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. Though it shouldn’t surprise him. In the time since meeting, you’d taught him many things about himself. And even in death it seems he’s still learning from you.

Astarion was more silent than Karlach and Halsin had ever seen him. As they received their reward from the Wavemother and talked to Duke Ravenguard, Astarion dragged behind them, silent tears escaping consistently.

Only once they reached camp did Astarion seem to return to his mind, paying no attention to the surprised and concerned stares from everyone else. He was only focused on storming over to the camps undead resident.

Withers did not looked fazed nor surprised by the vampires rage, closing the tome he had been focused on the staring blankly.

“Bring them back.” He demanded, voice thick with emotion. “Bring Tav back.”

Astarion faintly heard a few gasps from the crowd that had gathered behind him, the rest of the party hearing of your death for the first time.

The creatures hollow, echoed voice responded. “There is a cost to do so.”

Astarion’s jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“A matter of coin.” Withers replied simply.

A pale hand reached back into his travel pack to pull out the pouch of coin Astarion had collected throughout your travels. He shoved it against the undead’s chest. “Here!” He snarled. “Take it! Take all the coin we have, I don’t care how much it takes.”

Withers calmly opened the pouch, peaking inside. “That won’t be necessary. This is more than enough.” He said, dropping the pouch to the ground. “I recommend keeping thy distance for a moment.”

Everybody took a step back besides Astarion, only until Karlach placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulled.

Withers lifted a bony hand, speaking his words like a prayer. “By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives. Rise!”

There was a brief flash of light that had everyone shielding their eyes. In a matter of seconds, you appeared, stumbling like you’d been thrown back on earth. Which, to your credit, is what it felt like.

Your breaths were quick and heavy as they had been in your final moments, and you patted your body to ensure you really were alive.

There wasn’t much time for you to linger in your thoughts before you were essentially tackled, toned arms coming around you in a crushing embrace. As you heard the sound of weeping, you registered that it was your love who had lunged at you.

A choked sound escaped your lips before you could even realize you yourself had started to cry, arms wrapping around Astarion’s torso.

Through your foggy eyes, you could faintly see your other companions standing a few feet away, some wiping tears and others smiling somberly at you. But they were far from your mind at the moment.

You could only focus on the man in your arms, the both of you collapsing to the ground. “My love.” He whimpered out, surely leaving fingernail markings with how hard he was gripping you. “My little love, I thought you gone for good.”

A watery chuckle escaped, one of your hands coming to lace within the white curls of his hair. “I’m so sorry, Star. Never. I could never leave you.” You sobbed.

His embraced loosened, hands traveling to your face and pulling your forehead against his. His crimson gazed peered into yours, full of desperation. As if he would never be able to look into them again.

“I have never known pain,” He whispered to you hoarsely. “Like what I felt when that wretched place exploded.”

Your lips quivered with another onslaught of emotions. You placed your own palms against his cheeks, thumbs stroking the smooth, alabaster skin. “I never would have made it on time.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He shook his head lightly, removing his forehead and replacing it with his lips instead. He pressed a kiss there, then to your cheek, and then a final one to your lips, lingering again as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share. You only separated once oxygen became a concern.

“The others are waiting.” You sniffed, though you made no move to leave his side.

“Let them.” Astarion said, a small, relieved grin growing on his face. And you did.

The rest of the world could wait until the end of time for you to part from your Star.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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wonnieluv · 8 months ago

Text

I met you in the dark… you lit me up - p.js

Summary: The small cafe down the street became your safe haven from the busy life you’ve thrusted yourself into after moving to Seattle this past summer. It’s quiet, calm, warm… everything you could want until one day a cute guy with his guitar disrupts your peace and quiet

stranger!Jay x fem!reader,

warnings: none! mentions of loneliness but that’s about it

masterlist

June 2024 — you aren’t quite sure how everything happened… one morning you were chatting with your parents as they make you breakfast as they always did… the next thing you know you’re on a plane moving halfway across the country to a city you have quite literally never been to. You were never the adventurous type. Not in high school, definitely not in college, and, until now, not after college either.

Y/N L/N. In school, you weren’t the valedictorian, you weren’t even salutatorian. But you were smart. Just smart enough to pass under everyone’s radars in high school but get on the radars of some of the best schools in the country. After finally graduating with your masters, you’re now in your way to Seattle to start your first big job out of college at a major tech company. You were excited for the job but moving to a new city where you knew no one… it’s not an easy thing.

♡♡︎♡︎♡︎

November, 2024 — it’s been 5 months since your life was put into high gear. After you settled into your apartment you immediately started up wanted to get acclimated to your job as quick as possible. Your coworkers are nice and your boss is nice enough but the workload… it’s nothing you can’t do. In fact it’s actually pretty easy. So why are you so burnt out?

The real reason is you’ve been going on autopilot, working deadline to deadline. It felt robotic really but you don’t want to admit you’d fallen victim to the capitalist tech workforce. You brushed it off, it’ll go away eventually… right? (Spoiler alert it did not)

One random Sunday you decided you needed to stop spending your days off rotting in bed when the sun is actually shining (a rarity for Seattle in the winter you’ve come to discover). You found the quaintest little cafe down the street from your apartment. Entering the space, you hear the chime of the bell above the door and you’re overcome by the aroma. It’s coffee, of course it’s coffee, but it’s coffee and something else. It’s coffee with the perfect amount of cream and sugar and it’s so welcoming. The space isn’t very busy surprisingly so you head to the counter to make your order.

Ever since that day you began to come to the cafe every Sunday. You’d sit at your spot by the window next to the fireplace. Bathing in the aroma of the cafe and shamelessly watching the people as they pass the on the street and as November turned to December, you started spending more time there. It was always peaceful and never crowded, nice and quiet. A good contrast to the noise that seemed to always be populating your mind.

♡♡︎♡︎♡︎

December 15th, 2024 — You did it! You survived to the holidays, well… almost. Next Thursday you’d be flying home to spend Christmas and New Years with your family getting a nice break from work. This fast approaching break definitely reflected on your mood. You had an extra pep in your step and a smile on your face as you walked into the cafe for the last Sunday before you return home.

As you settle into your comfy seat by the window, you begin to hear light strumming on a guitar. You try to ignore it as it’s not super loud at this point and you prefer to just watch people outside with little to no noise from elsewhere. I mean… that’s what drew you to this quiet cafe anyways.

You were pretty successful in your attempts to tune out the guitar until the most honey-like voice drifted into your ears. Soft and warm, with a slight rasp to it. You couldn’t help but turn your head to face the voice.

The second you did your eyes were met with the face you weren’t expecting but you were entranced. You’d never seen this man in the cafe before. He had a strong jawline with fierce eyes that held a soft light to them that matched the words he was singing. There were maybe 3 other people in the little cafe besides you, but it felt like he was staring into your soul as he sang the song. You couldn’t pull yourself to look away.

As his song needed his eyes lingered in a prolonged eye-contact with you before he looks away

“Thank you” he says into the microphone before beginning his next song.

For the first time since you entered the cafe you didn’t stare at the window the entire time you were there. You kept your focus on the beautiful man playing his guitar with his beautiful voice. Without your knowledge, an hour had passed until he finally put his guitar down and got up. Him accepting a coffee and talking with the workers. You saw this as your cue to leave and get on with your Sunday.

As you pass their table to head for the door you try to eavesdrop on their conversation. Any clues to hopefully tell you more about this singer. You didn’t know why you wanted to know but you just had to figure out something.

“I was surprised to hear you were coming Sunday, the Wednesday night crowd wasn’t enough anymore?” You hear the owner chuckle as you pass

“Well you know how it is…” His response gets lost as you exit the cafe head full of thoughts

Wednesday nights huh?

♡♡︎♡︎♡︎

December 18th, 2024 — You were never the adventurous type. Not in high school, definitely not in college, and, until now, not after college either. You liked routines, you liked schedules. Knowing where you had to be and when. It was easy to plan your life around a schedule. Wednesdays were your nights where you’d get takeout and watch some shitty romcom in the solitude of your apartment as a celebration for getting halfway through the week.

So why were you standing outside the entrance of the cafe hoping a certain brown haired boy the chiseled jaw and beautiful honey voice would be inside?

You couldn’t even answer the question yourself…

As you entered the cafe, you’re shocked by the amount of people inside. The normally empty cafe was bustling. It wasn’t completely full but almost every table had an occupant with everyone chattering amongst themselves.

You forgo your coffee this evening and decide to plop down and the open table you saw. It’s towards the back, not your usual spot by the window but it’s in that general area.

Just as you settle into the atmosphere the crowd dies down a bit as you see the cafe owner head onstage with his microphone

“Welcome everyone! I’m so glad you could all make it out this evening” As he rambled on about the bad weather and the holiday spirit, you’re eyes wandered looking for the specific boy you sacrificed your romcoms for.

“Without further ado, the guy you all came here for, please welcome Jay”

Jay, So that’s this name…

You think to yourself as he walks onto the makeshift stage with his guitar in hand.

“Good evening everyone…” he begins softly.

“I know I’m here every week but it’s still touching to see how many people show up.”

All these people… are here for him…?

It’s almost mind boggling to you that that many people would gather in this quiet coffee shop to hear him sing but at the same time you understand it. He’s irresistible.

You’re brought out of your thoughts as he begins strumming his guitar. It’s not the same as any of the songs he played last Sunday. You zero in on him wanting to fully focus on him but to yourself surprise… you’re eyes meet his as he begins to sing

I met you in the dark, you lit me up

You can’t look away. He’s mesmerizing. His beautiful dark eyes are pulling you in

You made me feel as though, I was enough

You’re memorizing his facial features as if this is the last moment you’ll see him. His voice is so soft, it’s as if he’ll disappear at any moment

We danced the night away, we drank too much

I held your hair back when, you were throwing up

You look away for a moment needing to catch your breath. You’ve never met this man so why is he staring you down as if you’ve known him your whole life? Like he can see write through you. Like he can read your thoughts…

I knew I loved you then, but you’d never know

As his voice continued you opt to close your eyes and lightly sway in your seat

Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold

You’ve never been at peace like this. His voice was like a ray of sunshine streaming through the window in the evening as the sky is the mist beautiful shades of orange and pink.

Just say you won’t let go, oh just say you won’t let go

As he finished the last few lines, the guitar begins to fade out you open your eyes again to clap with the rest of the crowd. You look around at all the warm smiles gracing peoples faces. You look back at him in awe. But to your surprise he’s already looking at you with a warm smile on his face. As your gazes meet he holds your gaze for a long second before looking around the rest of the crowd

“Thank you…” he says

The next 30 minutes continue with him gracing the audience with his beautiful voice. The small crowd cooped up in the little coffee shop shielded from the cold and rain of Seattle in the winter. Every now and then looking in your direction for a couple seconds but not like he did during the first song.

He finishes his last song with an applause from the audience. It’s now going on 9PM and you know realistically you should get going home but you can’t get yourself to move from your seat at the back of the cafe. You watch as the people begin to leave the cafe exchanging their goodbyes with friends as they part their separate ways. It almost brings a sense of loneliness.

You haven’t really connected with anyone since coming to Seattle. Your coworkers are nice but you can’t see that much of a friendship stemming from the business relationship you’ve got at the moment.

Maybe that’s why you’ve enjoyed the cafe so much. You’re around people again but you don’t have to worry about talking to them past the cashiers taking your order.

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t notice a presence next to you.

“Excuse me ma’am. We’re going to close up now” you turn to see the barista smiling at you. You take a second to look around seeing as you’re the only person left besides the workers and Jay

“Oh of course! I apologize. Have a good evening” you smile at the barista as you collect your things and head for the door.

You spare one final look at the man packing up his guitar before stepping out into the rain.

Did I say rain? Oh sorry. I meant thunderstorm. It seems in the quiet hour you spent within the cozy walls of the cafe, a thunderstorm had rolled in despite the fact that there was no rain practically all day.

You sigh as you put your arms up in a futile attempt to cover yourself from the never ending rain. Your apartment is maybe a 10 minute walk from the cafe so you aren’t worried. More annoyed than anything.

You step out from the overhang as you begin your walk home but for some reason, you feel no rain. Your hands are dry above your head, you don’t feel any droplets fall on you.

With a confused expression you look up to see yourself covered by an umbrella. As you look down at the hand holding it, you trace your eyes to meet the face of the owner and before you know it you’re eyes are locked onto those deep eyes that had you mesmerized just moments ago

“I- ummm. Thank you..?” It almost comes out as a question. Internally face palming yourself for letting your nervousness show

You hear a chuckle in response “Why are you trying to walk without an umbrella in this weather?”

“I forgot mine at home I guess…” you respond a little embarrassed

“You aren’t from here are you”

“That obvious?” You playfully ask

“Almost…” he starts “I also think I would’ve remembered a face like yours if I’d seen it here before”

You’re eyes shoot back up to his face in surprise but once you lock eyes again you look away in embarrassment

“Let me walk you home…” he asks softly. “The rain won’t be letting up soon and you’ll get sick without an umbrella”

“You don’t even know my name” you counter his offer

“Well that can be changed can’t it” he holds out his other hand that’s not holding the umbrella for a handshake

“Jongseong Park. But everyone calls me Jay”

“Y/N…” you shake his hand as you look into his eyes

“Well then… lead the way Y/N” You nod. Hesitate to turn away from his face and let go of his hand but you do anyways

The short walk to your apartment consists of you telling Jay your story and why you live in Seattle now and your plans to go got for the holidays and him telling you his story. He was born and raised in Seattle and currently works with his father but likes to sing on the side. It’s only 10 minutes but if felt like half and hour as you couldn’t stop smiling in his presence.

You stop outside of your apartment complex backing out from under the umbrella to stand under the overhang.

“Thank you… for sharing your umbrella and walking me back” you smile sheepishly at him

“No problem” he offers a soft smile

The two of you stand there for a moment neither wanting to walk away

“Give me your phone” you blurt

“Why…?” He hesitantly asks but pulls his phone out nonetheless

“I need to repay you for letting me use your umbrella but I can’t reach you without your phone number now can I” you reason. Trying your very hardest to play it cool but inside you’re dying as you hand his phone back.

“You make a point but I have to warn you” he begins “I drive a pretty high price” he teases.

“Well then… I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me” you tease back

You fall into another comfortable silence the two of you glance into each others eyes.

“I’ll see you around Jay…” you say softly

“See you around Y/N…” he responds with a soft smile as he watches you enter your building before heading on his way home.

As you enter your apartment you giggle to yourself feeling giddy about this new character you’ve just brought into your life.

Jay…

You say his name to yourself with a smile on your face. The rapid beat of your heart tells you that the boy who entranced you at the small local cafe may become something a lot bigger in your life soon.

And all of the sudden, you want to take the risk…

Part 2 is now up! Read here :)

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block-tales-headcanons · 3 months ago

Note

Dry bones anon back with Feline!Player (name is still a work in progress) and a few headcanons. At this point my asks are just headcanons + a story

Its Crueling time

Like usual, spoiler for Block tales chapter 3 (and chapter 1 if you haven't played it)

How did Cruel King find out about the Player's cat problem?

The Cruel King was training with Player for a bit, they had the hard mode card aswell as no counter attacks, making thing...really hard, loosing very often.

1 victory and the Player would receive the Call card: Cruel King.

The lose streak was at 28 and it was almost night time.

It was another round with a barely standing Player despite them being at full HP and SP.

The Cruel King noticed something however, the Player's face was getting...........red....

*Cue the quick transformation* (a heart traps the Player for 3 sec and then boom, Player Hatred )

Cruel King just stared, the creature stared back...what was that thing, should he try to speak? it seemed sentient, maybe it knows what happened, the S.W.O.R.D.S can have varying effect on the user..

"P-"

[You panic and scream that it still you]

...

"So it is still you..Please Player, calm down, I won't harm you."

"Did a sword did this? It seemed that this transformation was not out of your own volition, do you know happen to know the reason for it or what causes this transformation to happen ?"

[You tell the Cruel King about the adventure to retreive the Ghostwalker, you do not the reason or causes of your transformation]

Confronting your emotions and feelings...taking the form of the creature you know as Hatred"

"I recommend you to rest, while this form has peaked my curiosity. Your body language is telling me enough about your current state. Rest, we'll take at a later date."

I'll be honest, this more au territory then headcanon, so on to actual headcanons.

Before chapter 3, DO NOT lend you're tix to Player, they will gamble it away if its closer than the shops they promised to buy stuff for.

^don't worry, while you do fuel they're gambling addiction, they still find a way to pay you back (by grinding a lot) and if they loose 3 times, they stop gambling for the week.

Kyoko is both girlboss that will help you through your problem....aswell as very innocent bean when she finds out that there is another adventurer, then its back to girlbossing.

The 2 penguins relevent to the story just play Mario kart, one is in the competetive scene and the other is a casual that can destroy if you show 1% of toxicity.

I didn't color them, guess who is who.

Anyway, Dry bones off to fight Hatred with the same deck loadout as player did in this ask, should be easy, if I managed for the other bosses (and started tweaking, at some point I wasn't even talking english or french) I should be able to beat Hatred.

#block tales #block tales headcanons #block tales roblox #player block tales #cruel king block tales #kyoko block tales #hatred block tales #dry bones anon #jerry block tales #terry block tales

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sara-the-wizard · 9 months ago

Text

7 Day Camp Stay. Day: 4

Wooh! Day 4, for ya!

Honestly, it wasn't a bad day!

(Spoiler alert: My hip got better, so that means Donnie's would too!)

Hope you enjoy day 4! Under the cut.

7 Day Camp Stay

Day: 4

Donnie woke up at 7:15. He threw his coat on and went over to Raphs room. Raph was still in bed, but he could wake up by now.

"Raph?"

Donnie looked at Raph, then shook him a bit.

"I'm up! I'm up!"

"I wanna go back to the camp now."

"You sure? Are you feeling up to it?"

"Yeah."

Raph then got out of bed and tossed on his coat as well. They got in the Taxi rocket and started on their way back to the campsite. Raph pulled into a small grocery store on the way.

"Mikey wanted me to get a few more ingredients for him."

Raph said as he unbuckled and opened the door. Donnie decided to follow him inside. Walking in, the bell rung. Donnie quickly put his hoodie over his head. There was an elderly woman sitting behind the cash register.

"Good morning!"

She said with a gruff, but kind voice.

"Morning!"

"Hello."

Raph and Donnie took a stroll through the store. Donnie wondered off to another part of the store, still slightly limping. Raph picked up the ingredients Mikey requested. Raph turned to find Donnie holding a box of crackers and some juice boxes.

"Could I..."

Donnie said sheepishly. Looking up at Raph. He didn't have his own money with him that time.

"Of course! Raph can get those for you if you want!"

Raph placed the juice and crackers in the basket and wondered over to the checkout counter. He placed the items down. Donnie doesn't remember what it cost but Raph was willing to buy almost anything for his brothers. They walked out of the store, hopped into the Taxi rocket and continued to the campsite.

Soon they arrived. Mikey had made the sandwiches for lunch.

"Hey! We're back!"

Raph said as he hopped out of the vehicle. Donnie opened the door and lifted himself up, looking over the top of the taxi at the campsite. Donnie slowly walked over to his tent and put the juice and crackers next to his bed. He came back out and had lunch with the rest.

Later, Leo wanted to go swimming in the lake nearby. Donnie declined on going, not sure if it was wise while his hip was still hurting with movement. Raph and Leo went, and Mikey stayed behind because he wanted to keep Donnie company. But Mikey would have to wait on bonding time cause Donnie left to take a shower.

After Donnie was done he crawled back into his tent and fiddled with his Atomic Las action figure. Mikey poked his head inside.

"Hi, dee!"

"Hello Micheal."

Mikey took that as a welcome. He crawled inside with his two favorite dolls, Jupiter Jim and Lu Jitsu. Together they made them go on a grand adventure, up Grey Mountain.

"Holy space nebula! You expect me to climb to the top of this mountain without anti-gravity boots?"

Jim said, waving his loose plastic arms in the air.

"Yes, and we must reach the top to find the ancient weapon known as The Sword Of Peace!"

Lu said with determination in his voice. Swiping his arm with real chopping action.

"We will get the sword, and we'll defeat our enemy once and for all!"

Atomic Thrilled. Raising her arm with a fist. They went up steap mountains and through dangerous caves. They fought off giant spiders and flying creatures, but at last they made it to the top. The sword was now in sight! It was finally in their grasp! Lu Jitsu walked up to the sword and grabbed it. Just then, their enemy appeared from the shadows. It was none other then, a giant raccoon! With it's fir all matted up from being tossed in the dryer one too many times.

"Oh no! It's Coony!"

The group of heros tried to attack, but none of their weapons had effect.

"Quick! Use the sword to defeat Coony!"

Atomic Las said in a panic. Lu Jitsu raised the sword towards Coony.

"I will not hurt you! Leave now and never come back!"

"It can't be that easy!"

Coony turned and hopped away.

"Okay, fine."

Just when Mikey and Donnie finished their little adventure, Raph and Leo came back. By that time it was Supper time again. Donnie watched as Mikey set up the sticks in the fire pit and put them into a tipi shape. He then carefully placed some fire started in the center and lit it with a match. Instantly it bursted into flames. The fire grew quickly. Mikey had prepared some zucchini boats with red sauce, mozzarella and pepperoni in them. He placed them on the grate and started cooking them.

It took a bit, but they were finally cooked through. Mikey served them out to his brothers. Donnie took a plate and sat down. Eating it made Donnie miss his pizza. The first thing he's gonna have when he gets home is pizza.

The meal was quickly finished, and Donnie headed off to the bathrooms to brush his teeth. His hip still hurt when he walked, but it was better than before. He looked up, and his jaw dropped. The stars were magnificent that night! Way better than yesterdays! Donnie stopped to admire them. Constellations glowing brightly. The milky way streaking across the sky. It was as clear as day! Donnie wished he could take a picture of it to gaze upon after it was gone, but his phone camera would not do it justice.

Donnie spent a good 10 minutes just staring at the sky, till a gust of wind chilled him to the bone. He made it to the restrooms, brushed his teeth, and got back to camp. There, he settled for the night in his sleeping bag. Camping has some good things that come with it. And its beauty is definitely one of them.

__________

That was a fun day! Maybe cause I like making up story's. :)

Oh, I love Coony so much! He's a Country Critters hand puppet we've had for years!

Anywizle, I hope you enjoyed reading! Lord bless you! ❤️

Last x Next

#rottmnt #riseofthetmnt #saverottmnt #rise donnie #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #novel

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messysketchyobeyme · 1 year ago

Text

How to Woo a Human: Chapter 2

[Chapter 1], [Chapter 2]

Satan/Reader

(Nightbringer Spoilers)

Summary:

"Different humans have different love languages. Taking advantage of a human’s love language will allow you to gain their trust, which can be used to manipulate them easier."

As long as Satan ignored the parts about deception and manipulation and focused on the affection part, he was certain he could change himself into someone who would be worthy of love.

He would make sure of it.

—

Satan highlighted (with a magic disappearing highlighter; he would never defile a book) the first love language he saw: words of affirmation.

Reading the passage over, it seemed like he just had to compliment you. That was simple enough. There were so many things Satan could compliment you about.

You were kind, brave, funny, adventurous, and smart. He adored the way your nose would wrinkle whenever you were trying to quell your reaction to a strange smell or to whatever his ludicrous brothers were doing at the moment. He loved how you were quick on your feet, always coming up with a plan to get them out of any situation you guys found yourselves in. He admired your sorcery skills. He had never met anyone who could make Lucifer of all demons stumble like that.

Honestly, Satan could go on and on about you.

And that was the problem. Satan couldn’t ramble on like a fool in front of you. What would you think? That he was as brainless and dim-witted as Mammon? No. He had to plan this out carefully, lest you think less of him.

Satan took out a pencil and notepad and jotted down some more of your attributes. While it was easy to get the broad strokes of your personality on paper, Satan found himself focusing on the minute details.

The way you would scrunch your eyebrows whenever you were concentrating on something, how you would go slightly cross-eyed from boredom whenever Lucifer lectured you, or the way you’d bite your lips when you were excited but wanted to hide it.

Skimming over what he had written down, Satan realized that he was starting to sound deranged. What was he supposed to do with these notes? Waltz up to you and say he likes the way your eyebrows wriggle?

No, no, no, no. This was stupid. What was the first thing he wrote about you? You were kind?

Yeah, that could work. He could compliment your thoughtfulness. That was a normal thing to say to someone.

Satan scribbled some more words of endearment on a set of index cards and stuffed them up his sleeves. They were just for reference. That was all.

Wiping off his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants, Satan stood up and left his bedroom. Leviathan had invited you to the House of Lamentation to play some games. That gave him the perfect time to strike.

He stepped up to Leviathan’s door and placed his ear against it. Muffled noises. Hm.

Satan knocked on the door.

The noises stopped. Then, muffled whispers. Eventually, they stopped and someone opened the door.

“Satan? What are ya doin’ here?” Mammon asked. His voice was always a little too loud for Satan’s liking.

Satan peered behind Mammon. Leviathan and you were sitting across from each other with a board game lying between you two. Leviathan was too busy staring at the game and presumably strategizing to notice him. You smiled at Satan and waved.

Satan waved back. “I want to play, uhh…” He snuck another quick look behind Mammon. “Devilopoly,” he concluded after seeing the game pieces.

That seemed to get Leviathan’s attention. “No!” Satan shriveled back while Leviathan tossed his hands up to explain. “No, I mean, I want you to play with us, but I’ve been doing so well!” He picked up his play money, which, to his credit, was quite a bit. “I managed to buy all of the big properties!”

“Oh, be quiet, Levi. Let Satan play. We can start over,” you said, clearing the board.

“You only want to start over because you’re in jail!” Leviathan pouted.

You shrugged impishly. Mammon shook his head and opened the door wider. “C’mon Satan. We could always use another player.”

“Thank you,” Satan said quietly before stepping inside.

“So, how much are ya willin’ to bet? We can start from a hundred Grimm and go from there.”

Never mind. Satan felt foolish to have even glanced in that sorry excuse of a demon’s direction.

“Ignore him, Satan. We’re not doing bets,” you said, patting the empty space next to you. “Come here and sit. You can choose between the shoe, the racket, or the demon horns.”

Satan chose the shoe.

Leviathan exhaled loudly through his nose, while Mammon sat down next to him. “Seriously, Levi? What are ya? Five?”

“Be quiet, Mammon.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. You handed the dice to Satan. “Here, you can go first.”

As he held out his hand, Satan sneakily peaked at one of the index cards hidden under his sleeve. He forced himself to make eye contact with you before saying, “Thank you. It was nice of you to let me go first.” Satan cringed at how robotic he sounded.

You gave him a look but didn’t dwell on it. “You’re welcome.”

Satan rolled the dice before throwing it on the board. Each die bounced once before flying off into two different directions.

Mammon yelped. “Hey, man, no need to be so aggressive with it!”

You pinched Mammon’s side, causing him to yelp, again. “Be nice, okay?”

Satan’s face burned uncomfortably. He didn’t think he threw them that hard.

While Mammon busied himself with aggressive nodding, Leviathan stood up and peered at the dice. “Six,” he said before scooping them up and bringing them back to Satan.

Satan moved six spots, landing on the one with an image of the Akuber logo on it. “I’ll buy it,” he said, handing over his fake cash to you, the banker. He also gave the dice to you. He wanted an ample amount of opportunities to compliment you.

“Thanks, Satan.” You quickly rolled the dice and tossed it on the board. Eight. You began moving your piece, landing on a Chance spot. Picking up the card, you quirked up your lip but that was all your expression betrayed. You placed the card face down next to you.

Satan tried to casually place his hand on his arm. He felt the index cards through his sleeve. “That was…” His voice started off too quiet, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “That was a smart play. You’re good at this game.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Well, it was mainly just luck.”

Dammit. Not even a thank you this time.

Your attention was quickly captured by Mammon. It was his turn now, and he was shaking the dice in his cupped hands with all of his might. Mammon’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was muttering “Boxcars…boxcars…” under his breath. He ended up rolling snake eyes.

Satan scratched at his knee. What was he doing wrong? He had already paid you two compliments, but you were no closer to falling for him than before. In fact, you seemed to be a little distant. Was Satan really that unlovable?

Gah, he was beginning to sound like Leviathan. That was disgusting in of itself.

The game continued on with Satan peppering you with the occasional complement. Each time, you would chuckle awkwardly or give him a half hearted thanks. Even Leviathan and Mammon were beginning to cast wary looks in his direction. Satan’s chest felt tight.

What was he doing? Why would Satan ever think a couple of compliments would ever win your heart? Or convince you that he wasn’t the grotesque monster he feared he was? Satan swallowed thickly. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong here. He needed to—

Something melodious filled the air, and Satan perked his head up to see you laughing. You were clutching your chest as you tried to catch your breath. “I–I can’t believe this is your…your third time going to jail!” you managed to choke out. “What are the odds?”

Leviathan scowled, his arms crossed. “Shut up! It’s not funny!”

You tossed your head back slightly as you continued to giggle at Leviathan’s misfortune. The blue overhead lights caught your eyelashes just so, causing the tiny droplets of tears that clung to them to sparkle. Your eyebrows scrunched together the same way they would whenever you would focus on something. Satan made a mental note to update his list.

Your grin stretched across your face, and it seemed to have lit up the entire room. At the very least, it ignited a fire deep within Satan’s very core. Now, his face was heating up for an entirely different reason. He didn’t understand how one human could look so captivating. You were perfect—wonderful inside and out.

In a daze, Satan managed to breathe out a quiet, “You have a beautiful smile.”

You stopped laughing and turned to look at him with a wide-eyed stare. Your cheeks were still glowy, and your eyes were slightly dewy. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, but they quelled down once he noticed your expression.

Satan had a hard time pinning it down. It didn’t seem unpleasant, per se, but it wasn’t looking all too positive, either. Did he say something wrong? A hasty apology was about to spill out of him when you began to speak.

“Uh, thank you, Satan,” you said, looking away. You bit your lip while staring at the gamer controller piece that was currently in the jail spot on the board. “I, ah, appreciate it. Truly.” A tiny, wobbly smile managed to sneak its way onto your face.

If Satan didn’t know better, he would have said you looked bashful. Or flustered. Or…

Satan blinked.

Oh.

That one worked.

Now, the butterflies seemed to have increased tenfold. The buzzing sensation throughout his body was becoming too much to bear. He couldn’t take this.

Satan leapt up. “This game is boring,” he said quickly, “I don’t want to play anymore.” With that, Satan strode over to Leviathan’s door and ignored all three of your protests before leaving the room.

Satan made sure to slam Leviathan’s door shut before pressing himself to the wall. He slowly slid down to the floor and pressed his forehead against his knees. He silently begged his heart to slow down, but it wasn’t working.

All Satan did was say that your smile looked nice. Why did you react like…like that? Why were you acting like he had gotten on one knee and asked you to marry him right then and there? You were always so composed, and he had never seen you flustered before in his (admittedly short) life. So, why did that one teensy tiny compliment get such a big reaction out of you?

The door next to Satan creaked open, and he glanced up to see you smiling down at him.

“Hey, Satan,” you said, “Are you sure you don’t want to keep playing?”

“I’m sure,” he mumbled against his hand.

“Oh, okay. Just let us know if you want to join in, again, alright?”

“I will,” he said.

You flashed him that awful, wonderful grin of yours. “Perfect.” You momentarily disappeared behind Leviathan’s door before peaking your head out. “By the way, I thought it was cute how you wrote…notes about me.” With a flick of your wrist, you revealed an index card—Satan’s index card—in between your index and forefinger. “You know, if you think my eyebrows are charming, you could have just told me.”

Satan scrambled up to his feet and snatched his index card from you. He stuffed it in his back pocket while swearing under his breath. “How did you—”

“It fell out of your sleeve when you left.” You leaned in closer. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let Levi or Mammon read it.”

Satan wanted to die. He managed to stutter out something that could have been akin to a ‘thanks,’ but he knew his words were too twisted around to be understood properly.

You let out a soft giggle before catching Satan’s eye. He stopped breathing for a moment. “Bye, Satan,” you said before closing Leviathan’s door.

Ugh. Satan hid his face in his hands. It was truly unfortunate he was utterly infatuated with you.

#Obey Me #Nightbringer #Satan #MC #satan/reader #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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burnt-by-marigolds · 3 months ago

Text

Stealing Moments of Comfort – complete fic

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relantionships: Astarion & Tav, Astarion / Tav

Additional tags: Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, friendship/love, nebularomanticism, banter, character study, relantionship study, autistic Tav, sensory sensitivity, overstimulation, implied/referenced self-harm, self-esteem issues, loneliness, childhood memories, (some nice some not so much), canon-typical violence, (but only described in flashbacks), spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), Astarion is trying his best, Yae is also trying his best

Summary: Running into Petras and Dalyria in the flophouse proved to be a tense experience. Now Yae and Astarion both worry about the future and their ambiguous, unexplored relationship, weighing the possibility of turning into an illithid or ascending. Yae suffers from overstimulation; Astarion comes to comfort him, convinced it’s the last warm moment they share.

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

⊱✿⊰

I… did it, I guess.

I have written and published my first fanfic. Which is a lot, given my complicated relantionship with the skill known as finishing, and the fact I dropped writing almost ten years ago and only picked it up again recently.

Thanks to everyone who liked and commented on my wip snippets, for every little bit of encouragement. I know I needed it.

Shout out to @thekindredcollective and their BG3 Spring Cleaning event for giving me the push to finish it sooner than later.

Stealing Moments of Comfort

We are a team, aren’t we? You’re still with me? – Astarion to Tav, Act 3

⊱✿⊰

Putting a tent up so close to others was a matter of practicality: it ensured safety. And, well, maybe companionship had become a welcome thing during all the travels and adventures together. But tonight? Seated by a small table, Astarion glanced at an empty mirror placed among other clutter, wishing he could disappear – just like his reflection had two centuries ago.

And that silly ragged owlbear plush Yae had put on a cushion next to the tent’s entrance. The serious Yae, who barely ever cracked a joke, for some unfathomable reason found it amusing. At this very moment, Astarion regretted not throwing the toy away – because even the stuffed animal seemed to regard him with contempt. The worn beady eyes whispered: You’re pathetic.

Angry, the elf unscrewed a jar of preserved blood. So easy for others to judge him! He hadn’t really hurt Petras, the idiot’s face would heal eventually – unless the wretched fool would get sacrificed first, in which case it didn’t matter anyway, right?

Righteous chumps and their double standards.

Astarion remembered the moment he’d held the other spawn to the golden light filtering through dusty window panes. The thrill of being in control, of being feared instead of fearful. The cloying scent of undead flesh turning to ash. Dal begging him to stop and the knowledge – oh, the knowledge – he had the power to do however he pleased…

And then Yae had spoiled it all.

Frustrated, the rogue slammed his forehead against the table, and raked all ten fingers through his silvery curls.

I, um… Well, the way they swirl around your ears. I like it, Yae’s half-bashful, half-nonchalant voice rang in his mind. Gods, please, there couldn’t possibly be a worse moment to remember how the warlock had offered to be Astarion’s mirror. The initial hesitation, then a quick barrage of words, all in fear otherwise the thought would remain unspoken.

The vampire felt like he was looking into hundreds of broken shards – all of them empty to match his hollow self. But the reflection in Yae’s eyes? It was his only one, yet just another lie, conjured up beyond his control. Once Yae saw through the illusion, he would definitely ditch Astarion.

And it was probably going to happen tonight.

⊱✿⊰

Yae wished his head wouldn’t hurt so badly, as if someone was trying to gouge his eyeballs out. He wished the light of the flames flickering in the center of the camp wouldn’t be so painfully bright, threatening to send him reeling whenever he looked directly at it. He wished Karlach’s hearty laughter, as she entertained Wyll with one more anecdote about her time under Zariel, wouldn’t ring in his ears like a sheet of metal struck with a rod.

Shadowheart’s herbal tea left a bitter aftertaste on the warlock’s tongue. He sighed and emptied the bronze cup in one swig. Blah. No matter how thoughtful she had tried to be, the medicine probably wasn’t going to help. He only drank it to make her feel better.

Yae rummaged through the contents of the chest, huffing in exasperation. Where had he put that damned sleep mask? All he really wanted right now was to lie down in his tent, wrap himself in a blanket, cut off as much stimuli as possible and try to forget all the misery.

A soft clink, grating to his oversensitive hearing, made the half-elf wince. His hand had knocked against something smooth and cool. With furrowed brow, Yae pulled out a glass jar with the Emperor’s astral tadpole in it. Oh, right. He had almost forgotten about the little parasite. It writhed languidly in the vessel. Even now, he could sense its profound loneliness, and a twinge of sympathy coursed through him. There were times when he felt like he was being stored away in a glass jar, too, prevented from truly connecting with other sentient beings.

Was this why the thought of potentially turning into an illithid didn’t frighten him as much as it disturbed others? Or why he had felt so safe and comfortable while visiting the myconid colony? Because a sense of belonging was woven directly into those creatures’ very nature?

Yae flopped down onto the dirt from a squat, settling into a cross-legged position. Pensive, he watched the listless tadpole swim about its prison.

At first, he had been ready to accept the Emperor’s offer. It was such an incredible opportunity, he would have learned so much, gained insights beyond normal people’s understanding. And in exchange for what? The body he had never been particularly fond of? This imperfect vessel, prone to headaches and sensory overloads? Or his “remarkable” personality and lack of social skills – qualities that seemed to put off everyone around? Yae’s patron didn’t show disapproval, so honestly, the choice appeared obvious.

And yet.

I want you to stay you.

It wasn’t Lae’zel’s or Wyll’s strong convictions that made Yae waver, nor Shadowheart’s vehement protests. They didn’t understand, didn’t want to undergo the change, and it was fine.

No. It was Astarion’s acceptance, and the concern that followed, that made the warlock shelve the idea – almost literally. The vampire, as loath as he proved to use the tadpole himself, never tried to dissuade Yae from embracing illithid powers; he turned out to be the only person in the entire camp who encouraged the other man to make his own choice.

But do be careful.

Yae groaned and bent slightly as if from physical pain. He wished he could repay Astarion in kind. He wished he could just say: “Sure, go ahead, do the ritual if it’ll make you happy”. But he couldn’t – and despised himself for it. Deep inside, he was certain he’d lose Astarion and hated his own inability to let the vampire go.

Yae raised the glass jar to his eyes again. Behind the faint reflection of his grey irises floated the translucent creature. That’s it, he thought. If Astarion ascends, it’s all over. If he does, I’m taking the tadpole.

⊱✿⊰

Astarion hated many things in existence, and waiting idly for a bad event to occur was one of them. No, he should take control and face the inevitable on his own terms – better to get it over with than count the hours. He only needed Yae to bear with him for a little longer; once he ascended, he would be happy to go his separate way, just–

Well, perhaps “happy” was an overstatement.

Astarion stood up, ready to wield his preferred set of weapons: charms and smiles. He swallowed the feeling of disgust and sauntered towards the center of the camp.

“Shadowheart, dear.” It almost scared him how easy it was to adopt a playful tone. “Have you perchance seen Yae?”

“You two just can’t stay away from each other, can you?” the not-exactly-cleric-of-Shar teased the vampire as she shifted her grip on an uncorked bottle of Amnian Dessert Wine. “I have, in fact. He came to me feeling bad, so I gave him some herbs. He said he was going to sleep early.”

“Feeling bad?”

Shadowheart sighed.

“You know. Overstimulated.”

Yes, Astarion knew.

⊱✿⊰

The crunch of dirt under careful footsteps warned Yae someone was approaching even before he heard the lilting “darling, it’s me” and the rustle of the tent’s flap.

“Do you mind?” the half-elf snapped from between the covers. “You’re letting light in!”

“Yes, yes, just give me a second–” The flap swished back down. “You know, sometimes I could swear you’re the vampire in this relationship. Don’t you have your blindfold, excuse me, sleep mask on?”

“So? It doesn’t fit perfectly. There’s a tiny slit,” Yae grumbled and shifted in his bedroll – not to face the visitor, but to bury himself deeper in the blankets. People always found it hard to believe just how sensitive he could be. “What do you want?”

Astarion’s cocky façade didn’t crumble one bit. Still, something about the other man’s frail state ruffled him. He didn’t want to see Yae suffer; he needed to see him strong. He knew for certain his friend wasn’t weak – the power he wielded against enemies! And yet…

Astarion pushed the intrusive thoughts aside.

“Honestly, you surprise me,” the words carried a very precise weight of nonchalance. “You always act like you’re the only person with an intact brain inside your pretty head, and yet when you feel sick, all you do is wrap that silly cloth over your face and hide away from the world.” Another sound followed the rogue’s words, a more dry and crinkly one, like… a sheet of parchment? Yae huffed.

“Oh, I have pursued many solutions already, both preternatural and mundane. I even dared to ask my patron to show some clemency, but the magic they grant me isn’t exactly of curative nature.”

“Patron-shmatron,” Astarion snorted. “The powers don’t care about the well-being of their subjects, I thought you already knew that. But speaking of magic – have you talked to Gale?”

“Yes.” Yae sighed. He realized the vampire wanted to help, but the underlying suggestion – even if not deliberate – that he hadn’t tried hard enough to resolve the matter still annoyed him. “He proposed casting Leomund’s Tiny Hut and filling it with darkness. The problem is, I can’t work the spell myself, and if he does, he’d be stuck with me for several hours, which is… far from ideal.”

“Is it? Say a word, and I’ll drag him here and tie him to a pole,” Astarion offered with mock gallantry mixed with a drop of sultriness. “Of all the people in this group one could share a tent with, he’s not the worst choice.”

Yae groaned.

“No!”

The vampire let out a snicker. Right, the grumpy little pet wasn’t a fan of suggestive jokes. Now probably even less than ever.

“Apologies.” The sick half-elf couldn’t see it, but he was certain Astarion flashed him a not-so-repentant smile. “On second thought, maybe it’s not such a brilliant idea. I mean, you two would probably get lost in some incredibly boring, unnecessarily convoluted arcane dispute and you’d forget entirely about my existence.”

The unconvinced hum from between the blankets clearly indicated Yae doubted if the feat was ever possible.

Astarion glanced at the yellowed parchment he had “borrowed” from the group’s shared supplies.

“Why not cast Darkness around yourself, though?”

“I don’t have any magic left. And it’s better to save the scroll in case we need to use it against enemies.”

“Nonsense. You need it now.” He sat down next to the bedroll. “Take that stupid rag off your face. Cast the spell.”

“It’s only several minutes, it’s a waste of the scroll,” Yae protested.

“It’s several minutes of respite, for gods’ sake! Just do it!”

“Fine, fine, just keep it down, will you? Ugh…”

The warlock untangled from the covers and pushed the sleep mask up to his forehead. He then took the parchment from Astarion. Once the words of power filled the air, shadows clotted and amassed, obscuring the inside of the tent in an almost suffocating blackness. Even gifted with darkvision, the two men were unable to pierce it. Yae sighed; to him the pristine darkness proved so soothing.

Astarion tried not to think how much the tent now resembled a tomb. At least there were two people in it, he reassured himself; as if to prove that point, he sought out Yae’s hand. It jerked at the unexpected touch, but didn’t shy away.

If only it wasn’t the last time they held hands like this… Even so, Astarion would treasure the memory.

For the next few moments, they just sat, a layer of darkness like a shroud upon them. Eventually the magic faded; the light of the campfire and torches once again danced on the tent’s canvas, shining through. Yae dropped onto his back, letting go of the cold fingers, and slung one arm over his eyes.

“You were right.” To his surprise, Astarion’s voice sounded disheartened. “It was pointless.”

“No, I–” He suddenly felt like an ingrate. “You were right. It was nice, if brief. Thank you.”

The vampire lay down on his side next to the warlock and propped his head on an elbow.

“No matter how many scrolls I lift from careless wizards and foolish nobles, it won’t be enough. An inefficient solution is no solution at all.” If only I had the power to protect you.

“I still appreciate it,” Yae muttered from under his elbow.

“Me wasting resources?” Astarion forced some of his stylemark tease into the words.

“Yeah. You wasting resources on me.”

“It was irrational. You haven’t forgotten you hate it when people act irrational, right?”

“It was thoughtful. Even I can see that.”

“Come now, don’t try to make me feel good.”

“No, really. It’s not your fault all spells are designed as if someone had a very complex dragonchess ruleset in mind.”

This finally drew a chuckle from Astarion.

“You’ve noticed that? Horrendous when it comes to practical, everyday purposes.”

Yae didn’t respond. Despite the fatigue, his spirits lifted a bit as well; the shadow of today’s events cleared in his mind, like a dispelled magical effect. Well, maybe it didn’t withdraw completely. The memory of the acrid smell that had filled the flophouse’s small common room still lingered in the corners of the man’s psyche. It threatened to spring to the fore should he concentrate on it too much, to coat his tongue again, to worsen the already bad headache. But at least for now, he had the strength to ignore it. Wasn’t it nice to just enjoy Astarion’s company in comfortable silence instead?

“I’m a scum.”

Yae started as his friend’s voice brought him back. It took a few seconds for the words to register. Something didn’t add up.

“Where does this one come from?”

“Can’t you see? I’m doing it again. I’m acting nice because there is something I want to talk about and I’m trying to soften you up.”

The tiniest of smiles formed on the half-elf’s lips. Astarion no doubt believed what he’d just said; his voice had that distinctive, almost anxious tinge.

It is true that brains generally prefer simple explanations – but Yae was never quite satisfied until he had a chance to take a thing apart and understand every minute detail of its inner workings. The reason given rang true, but he didn’t think it was the only, or even the most important one. It took almost all his willpower to not immediately open his mouth and argue. But by now he knew that in return he’d only get a snarky comment about being a smartass.

“Well, at least you’re not trying to seduce me anymore, so I’d still say that’s a step up.”

Astarion scowled.

“As a former magistrate, I swear, someone should immediately revoke your smartass license.”

Oh, well. He got called a smartass anyway.

“Yeah, right, just tell me already why I should hate you so I can tell you why I’m not going to.”

Despite the circumstances, Yae’s dry response did bring Astarion a little comfort. Which, somehow, also made things worse.

“Nice things just don’t last, do they? They are meant to be… fleeting.” The vampire paused. That wasn’t how he’d rehearsed the lines. Gods, after two hundred years of honing his casual, disinterested tone, he should be able to use it at will, like a street magician casting Dancing Lights for the amusement of the crowd. Instead, wistfulness crept into his words, but he wasn’t some teary-eyed puppy, damn it! Astarion clicked his tongue and pressed on. “When we started to get along… I immediately began to wonder how long it would take for us to stop.”

“Yeah. Me too,” whispered Yae.

The red eyes flicked in his direction, filled with disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really.” All of a sudden, the warlock felt immeasurably tired, and it had nothing to do with the headache or overstimulation. “It happens every time. Whenever I meet someone interesting and start thinking there might be a connection. I’m too weird for normal people and too normal for weird people.” He sighed. “Sorry. You were talking. I cut in.”

Despite the uneasiness, Astarion chuckled.

“I don’t know, I rather dig your brand of ’weird’.” And that’s the problem. “Look. I know what you think. You dislike that I fried Petras’s nose a little. I promise you, the fool won’t suffer any permanent damage.” Here came the defensiveness again. Once more, the vampire tried to quickly don his favoured armour of nonchalance – not a shining one, but tarnished with bitterness. “Well, it had to happen someday, right? You had to realize I’m not a person you want to keep around. I don’t blame you. I’m not going to try and convince you to change your mind. You’ve already shown me plenty of patience. But– if you’d only let me stick around for–”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tsk, come on!” The pale elf’s voice thrummed with frustration. Was Yae feigning ignorance on purpose? “I saw the look on your face! When I asked if we’re still a team, you didn’t even bother to reply! You avoided me for the rest of the day!” The words just… spilled, an almost accusatory tide instead of a graceful flow. Astarion pressed his mouth into a tight line.

“Oh, by the gods.” That was exactly why Yae hated all sorts of social interaction – no, why he feared them. So many assumptions. People invariably digging for hidden meanings. “I was unable to say anything! I– I needed time to myself! You know I always need time!” Vexed, he fidgeted with a ring on his finger – a perfectly mundane object with some simple etchings, made of three interlocking bands of metal. Of course the entire situation boiled down to him doing or not doing something, not having the correct expression, not showing the expected reaction, needing to process things. And now his voice was cracking while blood thumped in his ears – and he hated it with all his heart, because you shouldn’t show such intense emotions, Yae, it’s unprofessional and makes people uncomfortable.

Exhaustion and shame enveloped him like the pungent smoke – sticking to him just like the smell had stuck to hair, clothes and skin. Now he wished he could just cast Darkness again – to wrap himself in it safely, vanish, and possibly never return.

The uneasy silence that followed suddenly made both men aware of other, more distant sounds. Scratch barked happily, and the owlbear cub hooted back at him. Someone laughed. Was it Halsin? Probably. The sound had that warm, growly undertone.

“Just say I’m a cruel, horrible person, a monster, and let’s have it out of our way.” If only Astarion could run away from the mixture of desperation and defeat that burned in his chest. Wasn’t it what he wanted all along? For people to believe he was strong, intimidating, ruthless? He had tried hard to cultivate that image, but never once anticipated there could be a time when he’d regret others seeing him this way.

Another howl of throaty laughter echoed through the camp. What was the term Halsin had once mentioned to Astarion? “Deimatic behaviour”?

Yae’s head throbbed. He covered his eyes with open palms, trying to stop them from popping out of the sockets. Most of the time he felt utterly unequipped to deal with his own life, with all the setbacks and problems – and no matter how much he wanted to be there for Astarion, he simply lacked the energy. The half-elf’s brain spluttered and nearly came to a halt like a malfunctioning Gondian clockwork – its favoured reaction in stressful situations, to just shut off. For the past few hours, he had gone through numerous versions of this conversation. In his mind, he knew exactly how to say all the right things. He was kind, understanding, wise – and, most importantly, able to offer Astarion precisely the words the vampire needed to hear.

Right now Yae’s head was as empty as a patriar’s promise.

And yet, something stirred in the petrified mindscape. Something alien that had in the last few weeks become intimately familiar, a part of himself.

Yae’s tadpole gently brushed against the creature nestled in Astarion’s brain. The vampire suppressed the urge to shrink back, realising the immaterial caress wasn’t an intrusion, but an invitation. Almost a plea.

Let me in. Otherwise I don’t know how to express myself.

Astarion’s nostrils flared. Why couldn’t Yae just talk like a normal person?

The brief spike of irritation died out as quickly as it had occurred. If Yae could, he would. There had been times when Astarion was so starved he lost the ability to speak, hadn’t there? He glanced at the other man with compassion he rarely allowed himself to show, and let the tadpoles swirl together, establishing a connection.

Yae sighed; his confidence surged.

Usually, social interactions were so… confusing. He remembered playing Three-Dragon Ante with his older brother for the first time. Zenith didn’t explain the rules beforehand, stating that Yae would learn “as they went”. This discouraged the younger boy from the start, and the whole experience turned rather frustrating, with Zenith proving to be a messy teacher, mentioning various options in a rather haphazard way. Talking to other people posed an even greater challenge – you had to constantly keep guessing what the unwritten rules were, and those tended to change without warning, while others acted like they expected you to read their minds.

Well, actually reading minds was wonderful. Direct, raw, complex yet clear. With this, Yae could work.

So, is your parasite bothering my parasite because you wanted me to know you’re terrible at cards?

Hilarious, the warlock thought back. But gods, didn’t it feel good to uncork and be able to communicate again. He kept the connection unintrusive, just skimming over the surface of whatever Astarion was willing to share. As he calmed down, the sense of peace sipped into the vampire’s mind as well, and they non-verbally conveyed bits of what had troubled them today – just enough to notice how similar their fears and worries were.

You do sometimes feel like a mirror, Astarion’s thought was uncharacteristically quiet, bashful.

Yae took an audible breath.

“You’re not a monster,” he whispered. The physicality of the sound felt so out of place. “And even if you are, I don’t really care.” It was true. No matter how tempting it would be, he didn’t want some idealised version of Astarion. He wanted the real person. “You’re a friend. Yes, I’m worried sick – quite literally – not because of you, but about you.”

“You don’t want me gone?”

“No. I’m sorry I didn’t say so immediately. Sometimes I’m dumb like this.”

Reassured, Astarion withdrew from the mental connection. The vampire didn’t hate it – and it was kind of adorable how elated it made Yae – but right now he wanted some privacy, at least in his own head. The two parasites twirled together for the last time before gently untangling.

Yae stared at the faint outline of the tent’s ceiling for a few more moments, bracing himself. He recalled again how Astarion had encouraged him to make his own choice regarding the special tadpole. It really was the time to repay the kindness.

“Astarion… I just wanted to make it clear. Once we face Cazador… Whatever you decide, your fate will be in your own hands.”

Astarion let out a loud exhale. Good. Oh gods, good. He wanted freedom. Above all, he wanted to be his own person. And it felt so validating Yae recognised this.

The worst part, though, was that deep inside the unconditional acceptance chipped the vampire’s resolve to steal the ritual for himself.

Astarion shook his head. He shifted to face Yae more fully – as much as the cramped space allowed – and focused on something nice instead. At least he hoped it was nice.

“Friends.” He tasted the word. “You seem pretty attached to the idea. Not that I don’t like it,” he added quickly, “quite the contrary… but…”

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain if he really wanted to broach the subject. Not knowing was so nice, after all. And one serious talk was more than enough for tonight.

Yae thought back to his life before he had been kidnapped by illithids and infested with a tadpole; before he had moved to Baldur’s Gate; even before he had reached out to his patron and formed a pact. The tired poetic cliché would dictate it felt like a lifetime ago. If only memories had become a nice, gentle haze; if only the past would turn into a vault full of precious personal mythology. But the images danced in his mind, sharp – and while some weren’t unpleasant, those he’d rather forget burned the brightest.

The first one seemed innocent, happy even: a young boy, scrawny and awkward, perusing through his father’s magical tomes stored safely in a cozy, elegant library. Behind the window, the charming alleys of the Evereskan residential area soaked up the sun, the polished cobblestones almost glowing. The view reminded the boy of an oil painting – pretty, marked with a touch of gravity.

The thick aroma of special inks mixed with distinct scents of paper, vellum and papyrus, and the dusty undertone always made his nose tingle. Whenever he grew weary of reading, he would spend time contemplating the leather bindings, tracing embossings with his small fingers, staring at the marbled endpapers until he’d get dizzy.

It was a safe haven, away from the confusing demands of the world outside.

Inside the library no one made fun of his naivety. No one scolded him for being rude when he didn’t mean to be. No one ridiculed him for not being able to stay still. No one told him it was bad to show emotions. No one stared at the ugly bruise that lingered on his forehead, a mark from the time when, overwhelmed with frustration, he had banged his head against a wall. No one showed impatience at his silence, and no one sneered when he couldn’t stop talking about a treasured topic.

The books, even though full of power and magic, felt safe.

Xan of the Greycloaks encouraged those studies. A rather consummate pessimist, he would have, for once, been somewhat proud if his son had become a wizard like him. Perhaps he was trying to spare the boy at least some of existence’s misery; and perhaps he honestly didn’t realise his child had at some point decided all attempts at connecting with others were simply ill-fated and thus not worth the effort.

It was certainly a blow when his son – for some unfathomable reason – chose a warlock’s vocation instead, but at least the father could find solace in the familiar, unmarred sense of impending doom.

The boy was an adult now and even though every day he feigned indifference, deep inside he hadn’t changed – deep inside, he still longed.

“I’ve always just wanted someone to be there,” Yae whispered into the darkness. Another picture sprouted in his mind: an adolescent version of himself, scared and wounded after a magical accident, reaching out to an eldritch entity precisely for this reason.

Astarion went quiet, letting the words sink in.

Friends.

He smiled, remembering the shy kiss the other evening, on the bank of the River Chionthar.

Fine. He wasn’t going to argue about labels. He sat up.

“Alright. I’m going to get my bedroll.”

“What? Why would you–?”

“Because we’re doing a friendly sleepover. What did you think, you naughty boy?”

“I didn’t–!”

The vampire’s laughter rang in the air. The darkvision made the tent’s interior dull and grey, but he could imagine the lovely shade of rosy pink colouring Yae’s face.

“Easy, darling. Should I also get that terrible owlbear plush?”

“Hey, the owlbear is cute!” Yae protested, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice now. Good.

“You must really be unwell. This is the first time I’ve heard you use the word ’cute’ willingly. Anyway, I’ll get a blanket, too. We’ll throw it over the tent to block off more light and sounds.”

“You’re going to smother me.”

“Possibly. If you’re into it.”

“What–? Argh, stop teasing me!”

“I’ll be back in a few!” Astarion left the tent before Yae could complain more.

As they were falling asleep, their fingers – deathly pale and light pink – hooked loosely, resembling the interlocking bands of Yae’s ring. Astarion wondered if things could really last, or if he’d simply stolen another moment of comfort.

Or maybe those moments weren’t stolen at all. Maybe they were given freely.

Epilogue

A cry of anguish filled the blood-reeking air.

Yae slowly collapsed onto his knees. He didn’t touch Astarion, not knowing if the vampire wished for physical contact. Instead, he simply was there – a quiet, supporting presence. Astarion shuddered and sobbed; Yae felt his heart clench painfully.

“What do you need right now?”

“I don’t know. Let’s leave this cursed place.”

Later that evening, Yae browsed through his belongings. The jar was there, stuffed safely between layers of clothing. He plucked the little parasite out and held it at the eye-level.

The small thing wriggled, begging for company. It just wanted someone to be there.

Yae’s face twisted with sadness and guilt.

Emperor? Can you hear me? He took a deep breath. Please don’t be mad. If I don’t do it, the temptation will always be there.

Swiftly, before doubt could wash his resolve away, the half-elf dropped the tiny creature to the ground and squashed it with his boot. It was yucky, like stepping on a slug. He winced at the sensation.

The loneliness was no more.

With that, Yae went to find Astarion and see if there was anything he could offer his dearest, dearest friend.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #tavstarion #yaestarion #yae of evereska #stealing moments of comfort #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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pursuitseternal · 2 years ago

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“Dexterity Check First, My Sweet:” finger-licking smut 🔥with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night” part 9

Astarion x f!reader | E | 3K of finger fucking licking smut

Summary: Flaming Fist soldiers on your heels, caught red-handed trying to steal some food, and your Vampire Rogue has one place in mind for you to hide: Sharess’ Caress. Where better to spend an hour laying low together than a pleasure house… where he can tutor you on the dexterity skills that got you into this mess

CW: Vaginal fingering, finger licking, breast play, anal fingering, generally arrogant Spawn Astarion, Act 3 spoilers if you squint maybe…

Ao3 link | Series on Ao3 | Masterlist

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“Can’t you run any faster?” Astarion hisses at you, eyes narrowed as he glares over his shoulder, leading you down alley after alley in Baldur’s Gate. The clanking of armor still echoes behind you—the Flaming Fist still trailing.

And you, you’re hustling, but it’s harder given your wardrobe. “This was your idea,” you pant, aggravated in reply. “You said ‘Wear a dress for once, darling. No one will suspect us if you look decent for once…’”

His hand shoots out from the shadows, pulling you into a darkened doorway. His chest heaves, lock picks in hand. “I know what I said. It’s true, my sweet. You do look decent for once. It’s not my fault you can’t use those hands for anything subtle and smooth that isn’t my cock.”

He flashes a quick smirk your way before picking open the door you both press against. That smirk that melts your innards and makes you quiver instantaneously.

Turning, you keep an eye out for the soldiers who caught you stealing from the vendors. Of course after weeks in the Shadow-Cursed lands, food and gold were scarce. What little you still had only stretched so far in the City. So, you and your Rogue decided to take a… new course of action. One he swore was foolproof… easy… something he did a thousand times over hundreds of years… And he had insisted you look ‘decent’ in a dress for it.

Which was how you now find yourself squeezed against some alley door, panting, and afraid of being arrested as the soldiers who caught you nicking food from the stands close in.

“Hurry, Astarion,” you elbow him in the shoulder where he crouches beside you. “They’re coming.”

“Darling you can’t rush art,” he sneers in reply.

“It’s not art, it’s crime.”

“Maybe next time, you'll not get us caught then. Maybe you need some lessons on just how to expertly use those fingers…” he pauses, even as the clanking of armor draws even closer. He stands quickly, spinning you both, pinning you hard against the planes of the door as he crushes you against the wood. His mouth devours yours, your eyes filled with nothing but his pale skin and mussy, silver hair. Your every sense is consumed by his taste in your tongue, his scent in your nose, his wiry body bearing down, covering you completely.

That passion, that ardor steals your breath, lost in the sound of his breath in your mouth and the wet working of his lips, his tongue with yours.

So distracted you barely even notice the flurry of guards rush right past you until they have long passed. Barely noticed that he’s hidden you from their sight in his distraction. Kept you safe. Then he breaks, his devious smirk at your arousal only makes you pant harder. “You clever devil,” you rasp, trying to swallow. “Kept us hidden… and clearly you do enjoy this dress.”

“What would you do without me?” he taunts, reaching for the handle of the door, letting it creak open behind your back. “They’ll be back, we need to lay low for an hour or two…” that wicked gleam in his eyes only darkens. “How fortunate that we can hide here…”

You turn, taking a step inside the door. Instantly, you recognize it from your adventures so far. The scent of perfumes and sweat, of alluring flowers and dirty bodies all at once. Thick crimson curtains draped over every wall and door, ready to soften the cries of orgasm and the sounds of sex.

Sharess’ Caress.

“What better place to hide than a pleasure house?” he gives you that feline grin that more than announces his intentions for how to pass an hour or two. “Oh, what a shame we will have to hide away… just the two of us… away from everyone else back at camp…”

“Did I call you clever?” you roll your eyes, despite the way your belly floods with heat. “I mean sly, cunning…”

“And very, very hungry,” he interjects, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the stairs. “Starved practically…”

“How do you know where you’re going?” you hiss from behind.

“You forget so quickly these are my hunting grounds, my nocturnal domains. How fortunate you get me of my own free will during the daytime,” he quirks back at you over his shoulder as he turns down a hall and then another. “You’ve been dancing with a professional,” he smirks, breathing deeply as he draws to a sudden stop outside a door. “But you already knew that, my darling. Already experienced the fruits of my practice on the unworthy…”

“Gods,” you pant, “and you think me worthy?”

“Most worthy, my love,” he chuckles softly, turning the doorknob beside you. “Won’t you come and find out why it’s a pleasure house, my sweet?”

You smile, devious, “Emphasis on the… come?”

“I’m in such a good mood to be here with you, my darling, that even your unrefined wit won’t put me off or… soften… my regard for you,” he giggles, leading you behind the curtain that covers the entryway. Its fabric is thick, a dense sort of velvet, darker than blood.

You stumble into the dark, and instantly those hands… those strong, lithe, dancing hands, catch you. You hear so many other voices in the distance, a cacophony of moans and slaps and screams. You turn, looking for Astarion, an edge of… surprise in your heart. Surprise that warms quickly into a heady fear as he leers at you.

The soft light only makes every angle and cut of his face sharper, his skin almost lustrous, those hands leaving your grip to already begin to tear his tunic from over his head. Earth-shattering. Ruinous. He is beyond handsome.

And he’s yours.

“You can’t stop staring, darling…” he rasps, drawing closer in, closing in around you. The skin of his chest, the way every muscle and vein is familiar to you, it makes you force a swallow. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” he gives that short burst of giggles to punctuate. “But we really… really must do something about those hands of yours.”

He catches them together in just one palm, his touch cool despite the growing heat that caresses your skin. “Strength doesn’t come from brute force all the time, slashing and twisting…” he breathes. You gasp, moaning suddenly as his other hand has already managed to somehow slink into the hitched hem of your skirt, his touch barely ghosting up your inner thigh. “You needn’t be so gruff and commanding all the time, darling,” he purrs. “Let your fingers find their own way, one by one in that merry dance…”

“Gods,” you groan, as indeed one by one they slip into your folds, sliding in so easily with how drenched you already are for him. He flashes that sideways grin down at you, eyes narrowed as he is savoring the way you shudder at his touch, at the way your mouth hangs open suddenly to feel him pleasuring you. “Please, more,” you sigh, arching back to find something to brace your body against. “I want more inside me, I want you inside me.”

“But I am, darling,” his grin only twists higher, “and this is my lesson for you, so you had better listen and learn.” His hold on your hands tightens, his thumb massaging over their backs, deftly and rhythmically stroking your taught muscles. His legs stride between yours, hips pressing hard against you, making you back until you smack the your knees on some soft furniture. But quicker than breath, he steadies you. Fingers slipping from your folds and your body to unbutton his breeches.

You don’t even need to look to know his cock stands at the ready, and you giggle as he presses it into your waist, so hard you feel its twitching through your gown. “Already?” you tease, feeling a blush sweeping over your cheeks and up your neck.

“Well, you’re going to need something to practice on…” His eyes gaze at you, glazed with desire, that crimson shine almost a bright red as the lights from the candles around you flicker and flame. “And, I will too,” he adds, voice thick in his throat as he takes the ribbons of your blouse in those long, lean fingers. “Something to play with, as an example of course…”

His breath is heavy, each inhale and exhale almost deafens you. He is close but refrains from brushing against you, nothing more than the way his fingers pull those thin laces of bodice, one by one.

Slowly. Painfully deliberate.

His gaze never wavers, doesn’t even have to look to know where to grip, where to touch. Until at last, the panes of your bodice split, your breasts achingly hard to feel the free air, the rush of his heavy breaths caressing them.

You try to catch his mouth, to bring him into a kiss, but he only shoves you back down to your heels. “Tch, tch,” he sucks his teeth at you, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “This isn’t a lesson for your mouth. Your tongue is already so good at sucking and swallowing, my pet.”

Oh, you shudder. His words alone push you to that precipice of need. Not to mention that constant washing sound of the pleasures around you. It makes you whimper to be denied.

“Shh,” he chuckles quietly, one long pointer finger on your lips to tap gently. “Think about how enjoyable it will be to put these skills into practice daily… nightly too…”

Your brow raises, mischief swirling in your belly as you quickly part your lips, drawing that finger between them to suck it hard.

His cock pulses against your belly, his mouth groaning loudly at the warmth and wet you swirl around it.

“Eager and naughty. You belong in this pleasure house, my love,” he growls. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit on the seat behind you, a settee you realize, covered in softest velvet. Your breathing grows rough, every inhale you make is filled with the perfumes of the house, masked heavily by that fresher scent of his skin.

Your mouth waters, his hands rucking up your skirts, clawing around your hips as he settles you on his thighs. He throws the skirts behind you, ensuring he has complete control, a perfect view of your soft-curled mound, your shaking thighs. But he leaves you aching, your pulse pounding as he can feel your folds soaking his skin and throbbing as you grieve the emptiness inside you.

His fingers seem to dance in the air as he reaches for your body, where your breasts hang so exposed. So easy for the taking. Fascinated, hypnotized by their dexterity, you watch as each of his fingers moves, of its own accord, each playing across your skin. His touch is delicate and deliberate.

The muscles of his hands clench, each movement visible as the candlelight caresses that masculine outline. Light warming his pale, pearl-like skin. Shadows following the ridges and trails the veins make over the backs of his hands, weaving gently up his arms.

You can’t resist, bringing your own touch to dance along those protruding blue lines. Mimicking the soft and commanding pressure he makes as he cradles your breasts, one in each hand, fingers twirling and plucking your nipples hardened to pebbles in his masterful touch. You can’t help it, can’t control it as the rhythm of his touch on your breasts alone sends those shivers of pleasure down your spine, your body under his thrall as climax pours through you. Hot and wild, you buck on the limited friction of his thighs, your cum coating that flawless, smooth skin.

And he giggles. With a little extra effort, he tweaks your nipples as you ride out the remaining waves. “Oh my sweet, see what skilled fingers alone can do?” he croons. His hips buck beneath your still-trembling thighs, making his cock jolt where it stands. Little trickles of his seed already leaking from that tight little slit. You want so badly to lick it clean, to quickly shove that hardness deep inside you to cool your burning lust. But you smile, taking it in your hands, not to be outdone by your arrogant, insufferable Rogue.

Plying that same silken yet commanding touch, you sweep a single finger up the trail of his precum, gathering it on your fingertip before slipping it in your mouth. Sucking it clean.

He groans, watching. His hands slide down your sides, holding your hips hard against his thighs. “What a good student you have become,” he praises in his honeyed tones.

You pull your finger from your pursed lips with a resounding pop. Licking the rest of those fingers one by one, you begin tracing just the soft pads of your fingers up and down his twitching shaft.

For hells take you if you weren’t about to stun him senseless with your fingers alone.

You keep your eyes on the motions you make, smiling harder each time his hips buck under your touch, cock twitching and jolting as you beat it in your grip. Maybe it’s the sounds that surround you, the wet slap of flesh, the moans of a hundred paying patrons, but your mind fills with a naughty idea.

Pausing, you clamber between his legs, pressing him wider with your knees. As he has done to you countless times.

“Just what are you doing, my sweet?”

You ignore the question, using a single hand to tug softly on the wrinkled silken skin of his balls. Gods, they feel tight and heavy in your palm already. Driving him closer to his own bursting release with each stroke you make.

“You’ll find out…” you grin innocently, meeting that flaming scarlet gaze of his. His tongue drags over his fangs, hunger lurking behind every clench of his body. The soft pads of your fingers slip further beneath him, following the hard seam of his erection until you brush the pert little hole of his ass.

Astarion hisses, arching his back as you press around it just a bit harder, circling it as he has done to everything on your body a million times.

“Darling…” he groans, raising his hips to let you in more. “Testing your dexterity on all of me, are you?”

You slip your touch inside, feeling him clench as you mimic the way he caresses you. The way he fucks you on those talented, eager fingers of his. You savor the way he growls, head thrown back against the velvet of the settee as you crook inside him deeper. For a moment, you forget all about his cock. Savoring the way you make him shake and quiver around your digits for once. But then, he clenches so hard around your finger deep in his ass, his cock ripples, thickening as you push him further towards the edge. He thrusts over and over into your other fist.

“Hells…” he pants, forcing his head up to meet your smile. “Where in gods names did you think to do that?”

You smile, so innocent and pouting and coy. “You’re not the only one who can read a book, Astarion…”

“Hgnf…” he grabs your wrists, the veins of his arms protruding even more as he flexes, pulling you down to collapse on his chest. “Lesson learned. Now I’ll claim my payment, it’s a brothel after all.”

No resistance is left in your body, too wet and hot and aching for anything other than letting that cool shaft of his cock to pierce deep inside you. And it does, sheathed so tightly in your cunt you cry, begging for more. Your scream could shake the walls, muffled only by those thick curtains.

“That’s right, my darling. Be loud, let them all hear you, hold nothing back like you do for me around the others,” he hisses low in the throat, hands tugging your dress apart all the more. All the better to let your breasts swing free with every unbridled buck of your body.

You groan, so loudly you’re sure you hear the curtains shaking.

And you do, as they pull back to open wide, the clatter of metal armor crashing through the soft slap of flesh. “Flaming Fist,” a cold voice startles you, anouncing. You gasp, clutching your bodice to hide the ample swell of your bosoms, burying your face against his chest as Astarion sits upright.

“What is the meaning of this,” he snaps in disgust and sneers in disdain, that commanding edge of his voice is dominating and cold. “I’ve paid good money for this, and you have no business to intrude on either my time or my pleasure.” He chastises, bracing his arms around you, curving you slightly around his side.

Hiding you.

“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier insists, far more timidly than before. “We’ve been trailing a thief we were tipped off today who would be pinching food stores from the markets today. We suspect she may be hiding here.”

“Get out or pay me the 500 gold I’ve already wasted by spending time speaking with you!” he bellows, gesturing roughly towards the door. “No one here but an angry, wealthy patron and his whore!”

That did it, sending them scattering and clattering as they shut the curtain firmly behind them.

You go still on his lap, a suspicious, scouring look on your face as you meet his arrogant, guilty eyes. “Tipped… off…”

His smirk curls wickedly to one side, shrugging demurely, a single hand splayed on his chest to feign innocence. “How else am I supposed to get you to accompany me here, say… Oh darling, I’d like to take you to a pleasure house so I can loudly fuck you away from prying eyes and listening ears?”

“You’d be surprised just how charismatic you might be if you checked, if you asked nicely…” you grind on his still throbbing cock, “…if you tried saying please.” You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest to shove him back down. “Perhaps you could benefit from some lessons on asking nicely…”

That handsome face quirks, twisting harder as he smiles at you. “Dexterity check first, my sweet,” he purrs and crooks his finger against your clit. Reminding you just why you’re here.

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night-raven-tattler · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there, I recently became a follower and I love your writing so far, keep up the great work and I hope you’re having a wonderful day

I saw that requests are open so if it’s alright, can I get headcannons of the first years (separate) and shows/movies they’d enjoy watching with the reader?

Thought it’ll be pretty fun and an excuse for me to get recommendations lol, thank you!

Hello, Aesthetic! Thank you for your kind words! This was a bit of a challenge for Mx Tattly, since they are not a huge movie person. However she hopes you still enjoy his takes. They also wrote from the perspective of the Prefect/Yuu having access to some movies from their world of origin. Enjoy!

Movie night, otherworldly edition

Characters: Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, Sebek and GN!Reader (separate)

Warnings: food mention (Epel's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Grim's preffered genres are: comedy, action, animation, fantasy

Grim trully is a child at heart, and all the colorful characters and scenes from animation have him hooked

He also enjoys a good laugh, especially visual gags

He barely has any attention to spare for a series, so movies are his preffered format

He would never admit it but he's a sucker for found family

Silent movie crier

Loud denier

Some favorites from your world: Home; Bolt; That one Wizard Boy Movie we Don't mention in This Household; he has a weird relationship with Ace Ventura

『••✎••』

Ace's preffered genres are: horror, thriller, action, adventure

He enjoys gorey stuff and being the guy you hide behind of when the scenes get too much, but he needs time to prepare for psychological horror

Ace is the type to look up spoilers before watching something and he tries to trick you into believing his made up version of the plot

He talks a lot during movies but hates when others do it

While he enjoys a good adventure movie, he hates superhero movies and he thinks they're silly

He prefers movies over series because he likes the format more, but he's down for a short series

Some favorites from your world: The Mummy; Jumanji (he loves making fun of it); American Psycho; Scary Movie

『••✎••』

Deuce's preffered genres are: action, adventure, animation, family movies

He is pretty easy to please, he'd watch anything that is entertaining

Definitely a Marvel fan

He also loves animation movies, the animation always leaves him awestruck

He likes movies about families and their bonds

Deuce is also surprisingly into medical dramas... but also cop dramas

He is a crier as well but only when he's just with you

Some favorites from your world: Black Panther; The Rookie; A Goofy movie; Police Academy 2

『••✎••』

Jack's preferred genres are: documentary, adventure, romance, dramas and telenovelas with a bit of nudging

Jack is the type of guy to retain various informations after watching something

He can sometimes memorise entire scenes, and he finds that habit less annoying when he watches documentaries; he likes something informative and motivational

Jack also enjoys some romance movies sometimes, but he is very picky so it's hard for him to find one he actually likes

He does, however, like to point out and comment on the weird courting habits humans have

Jack finds telenovelas and soap operas kind of nonsensical and overly dramatic, but he also gets hooked on the plot pretty quick and soon enough it would become a bit of a guilty pleasure

Some favorites from your world: David Holmes, the boy who lived; the social dilemma; Love, Simon; Yo soy Betty la fea

『••✎••』

Epel's preferred genres are: comedy, action, western, anything he can mock and make fun of

If you think Ace is bad with his mid watch commentary, Epel is 10 times worse

He mocks things in movies so often he's giving Cinema Sins a run for their money

He won't shut up even if you give him all the snacks, he'll talk while eating

He also has the most colourful, boisterous, ridiculous laughter imaginable (and I say that lovingly), so if the comedy movie is not making you laugh then Epel's laughter is

Epel is not a picky watcher so he can get behind anything that isn't too sappy

If you pull out anything with Vil on the poster though he will dematerialise from your couch

Some favorites from your world: Rush Hour; Desperado; Puss in Boots 2; any Fast and Furious movie (unfortunately)

『••✎••』

Ortho's preferred genres are: anything he finds intriguing, family movies

If anything, Ortho has a wide palate and can enjoy almost anything

He also knows how a movie ends before he watches it, but it never ruins his enjoyment

He never spoils anyone unless they try to argue with him about the direction of the plot

Most of his interest in movies came from wanting to understand human behavior better, but now he can just use them as a time killer or sleepover material

He also likes watching your reactions to the movies: how often you laugh, how often you cry, how often you reach for snacks

A favorite from your world: Big Hero 6

『••✎••』