#why can I never decide how far to take my sketches

[lunar-muse]

Kaeya Relationship Headcanons:

A list of my headcanons on pursuing a relationship with Kaeya (both platonic and romantic).

Strangers/ Acquaintances:

Judging by his behavior in the webtoon and game, how Kaeya treats you in the beginning varies deeply on his intentions with you.

He is wary, but not necessarily unkind. He will be respectful but will tread with understandable caution.

When meeting the Traveler for the first time (how could we ever forget that intro?) Kaeya says:-

“You’ve actually got the power to go up against the dragon. Are you a new ally… or a new storm…?”

Obviously, it’s natural to be suspicious of a stranger from ‘afar’ who showed up out of nowhere, pelted one of the Four Winds with energy pellets and claimed to want to help for a minimal favour in return. But note that in his case this trait is especially highlighted (“From afar. Is that all we know of them?”) compared to other characters from Mondstadt. Even if we take into consideration that times were hard and the Knights gladly accepted any who would help, let’s not forget Kaeya’s first quest. Yes, the Harbinger of Dawn one.

Your help in saving Mondstadt had earned you the trust of everyone… except for Kaeya. So naturally he decided to test you and take care of official work at the same time. Two birds with one stone!

And regardless of the outcome, he’d have a clear sketch of your character in the never ending archive in his mind. He’ll have something to predict your moves and your intentions- no matter where you stand with him after.

Looking at Thoma, Mika and Sucrose’s case shows us a different side. Neither of them are particularly intimidating and the latter two are more than socially anxious. With Thoma, Kaeya shows a friendly interest in the affairs of Inazuma (another headcanon of mine I’ll touch upon later) because he doesn’t feel threatened immediately. The same applies to Mika and Sucrose except he’s the one who’s trying to break the ice with jokes and gentle teasing (but as it’s revealed in the voice lines, that only made them more nervous…).

So in short, to even be considered a friend (let alone a close one) you’ll have to prove it to him. Multiple times maybe. If you’re shy or quiet by nature he’ll be gentler with you, but he’ll probably test you in more subtle ways.

But if he suspects you of something nefarious? Like he did with Collei?

Haha, no, you’ve got another thing coming.

Expect snide comments, sarcasm 24/7 and anything that falls within an acceptable range of aggression. (Note: ‘Acceptable’ here means something that wont get his badge of office ripped off or won’t upset Jean… too much). He will literally bully you into giving up proof, calculating your nerve with serpentine precision. He might switch tactics if he needs to, but he will weed you out.

But don’t fret, he’s capable of changing his attitude if you prove him wrong. (Again: As with Collei). Out of most of the characters in Genshin I can count off in my head, I think Kaeya is one of the few who actually puts in an effort to change his treatment of you.

I'd argue that the webtoon has the best representation of his early game behavior (although do take this with a grain of salt considering there are some inconsistencies) and gives a better idea of why he's considered shady.

Friendship

Oh? You've come this far? Congratulations, you're ahead of more than half the citizens of Mondstadt!

Whenever we see Kaeya, he is either by himself- probably in some dark corner thinking or just observing- taking care of official business or with the same set of recurring characters - Klee, Rosaria, Diluc (is there someone else I'm forgetting? I can't remember-). I've already explained that Kaeya picks his companions with much prudence and if he starts hanging around you more it's definitely a sign that you're getting there.

Thanks to the whole "Everybody Loves The Traveler" system we get to see more of his softer side (Paimon please stop doubting him, it hurts his feelings-) and he definitely becomes more vocal about his care for us (which is a nice parallel to Diluc who I find struggles with vocally expressing care).

Comparing the “More About Kaeya” voicelines shows us his method of opening up.

For example,

“The title of Cavalry Captain is nothing to get excited about. Now that I think about it, the Grand Master took all the cavalry from Mondstadt so there's none left for me to captain...”

The first thing he tells you about himself. Pretty normal, common knowledge in Mondstadt and he subtly tells you he’s not a big deal- perhaps hoping for a friendship with no professional boundaries? Or a way to lower your guard?

It could be either, or it could be both. Adelinde herself says he’s a complicated character.

“There are a total of ten captains within the Knights of Favonius. But truth be told, not all of them have what it takes to be leaders.”

This one has more of a personal touch to it, but he’s still not telling you anything about himself despite it being labelled as “More About Kaeya”.

“My eye? My eye is fine. There's nothing unusual about hiding one's body parts from view. It's the same reason I wear pants... or any other item of clothing, for that matter.”

“Khaenri'ah, huh? You sure know a lot! The legacy of Khaenri'ah is long gone. The sinners are all that's left, and they're not worth mentioning.”

In both these cases, you’ve already reached a decent friendship level but he still deflects anything that comes even close to his heritage or his past with Diluc.

Especially the Khaenri’ah one. His voice is especially clipped and the line is almost abrupt, like he’s physically restraining himself from cursing the Five Sinners and giving away more about himself.

So even if Kaeya does let you in, there will still be plenty of secrets and questions for questions. He might let you in on his more casual troubles, but he’s locked his past and reaching it is like unlocking a Luxurious Chest in Inazuma.

BUT-

“I didn't realize we'd known each other for so long now. Time flies! You know, following you on your journey might just be the most fun I've had in my whole life. I hope it stays that way.”

“We were just traveling partners. I never thought I'd have you to thank for getting me to this point. Seems I really should respond in kind. Let us carry on, partner. The road ahead is still long.”

These two lines are achieved at Friendship Level 6 and Ascension Phase 6 respectively, the “maxed out” lines as I like to call them.

So you see, just because his past and the unsavoury parts of his life are under lock and key doesn’t mean his affection for you is. Kaeya may be an incredibly complicated character, but he is still human. He still craves camaraderie (which might be why he’s so eager to get to know people) and acceptance, both which he doesn’t receive easily because of his reputation.

He also strays away from transactional relationships for this very reason. Kaeya has multiple contacts and informers, but it’s all a transaction. The knights (except for Jean, Lisa and maybe Amber- I’m still on the fence about her) under him have a pure boss - employee relationship (which may or may not be strained because of his methods). That’s probably why he appreciates Rosaria so much, he has faith she isn’t drinking with him out of obligation. It might also be the reason why he plays “Uncle Kaeya” with the Mond kids, not only to preserve their sense of wonder and innocence but also because they haven’t learned to pretend like adults. They’re genuine- and Kaeya appreciates that in people.

But yes, expect the teasing. He has the wit and the charm and he’s going to use it to make your life miserable (affectionately).

To summarise the friendship part:- he’s a cat. He’s sweet and adoring but he’s distant and you’ll get scratched on occasion.

Romance

Honestly I think the moment Kaeya realises he’s falling for you he’ll take a step back.

He’ll brood in a corner again, looking more mysterious than usual while he falls apart on the inside. He’s smiling at you, there’s still that playful smirk but he’s spiralling on the inside. The only people who are seeing through him are Diluc and Rosaria.

He’ll be lost in his thoughts around you, constantly calculating what to say and what not to. Casual grazes against you are micro-analysed till the early hours of the day when sleep evades him. He’s doomed and he knows it.

And if you choose to compliment him? Flirt a bit? Especially when you were shy before? Rosaria will need more than aspirin for the headaches Kaeya’s drunken rambles will give her. Of course, he’ll brush it off with a “Oho? Are you saying I’m special to you?” or something along those lines as he did in his hang out, but he’s always been excellent at pretending.

You’ll be dancing around each other, teasing and joking and sharing quiet moments that make you go “What are we?” when the silent stretches too long. Very angsty. Very confusing.

I’m not sure if it’s an unpopular opinion, but I think you’ll have to confess first. Otherwise this song and dance can and will last for months, years even.

Assuming you two do manage to enter a relationship, Kaeya will be an absolute gentleman. Don’t get me wrong, he was raised to be one and he is, but he’ll dial it up with you.

Carrying groceries? He has arms for a reason, strong ones too, he won’t mind if you wanted to give them a squeeze. Feeling hot on a summer day? How fortunate it is to own a cryo vision! Now, how about you sit back and just let him re-chill your drink (alcoholic or not) and give you a cooling shower of snowflakes?

He’ll also try to involve you in his own interests. Expect to be shown a detailed analysis of the pros and cons multiple TCG cards . Oh you’re reading? You should check out the Adventurers of Angelos, perhaps you might like it! Oh, you’re into romance? A good thing he’s friends with Jean, expect a list - and maybe even the books- in a few days.

This also goes your way. Share your interests with him, you’ll never find a better listener.

I headcanon his major love languages are gift giving, words of affirmation and acts of service.

Speaking of gifts, prepare to be spoiled. His gifts may not always be particularly exuberant, but they’re certainly unique. Especially when he goes on long distance missions, he’ll scour the markets during his free time and take much longer to pick your gift than the ones for the others. Or if he can’t pick one, why not all? If you disapprove of him using government funds for your gifts then… well, what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

He’ll be strangely delighted and intimidated if you finally call his bluffs. That means you’re paying attention but that also means he’ll have to double down on the lies that matter.

He’ll occasionally take you to Dawn Winery. The employees there are the closest thing to a family he’s ever had and he feels obligated to break the news to them (Adelinde may or may not have your wedding date and babies’ names planned, Kaeya is scared but he can’t do anything about it).

Most arguments are resolved fairly quickly unless it’s a matter of his secrecy. Kaeya is a patient and respectful man but if you try to forcefully barge your way into his fortress of a mind, you will only find towering ice walls and your frost-bitten fingers are useless against them.

He gets a lot more snappy, condescending and sarcastic when he’s mad and serious arguments can last for a day or two. He does have some pride after all. But they also destabilise him and he retreats back to his shell to nitpick at the finer details and analyse them over and over. Should he make you cry, the cold front crumbles fairly quickly. But he’s quick to catch crocodile tears and will tire of it if you exhaust him.

But as I said, I think there would be few arguments with him given his flexible, impromptu nature. I also have a few more headcanons but I think I’ve been blabbering for long enough-

Overall, Kaeya definitely has his faults and struggles with vulnerability, but he isn’t that hard to love. He’s a thoughtful and patient partner and even the dullest day is brightened by his antics. A romantic relationship with him is a lot like an extended friendship.

[ollyissleepy]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐬

summary: Linkon is officially decorated for christmas! Your boyfriend decided to take you out to enjoy the pretty lights and all fun festive statues! a/n: thinking of adding bonus chapters for all of the boys (like I did with that Rafayel request) so if you have some ideas I'd love to hear them ^^ cw: none?

series masterlist

"Enjoy!" The waitress puts your hot drinks on the table and walks away. Getting out of the house was Rafayel's idea, from grapevine (Thomas) he heard that the city set up christmas decorations and he really wanted to sketch them. After walking around the streets and getting some inspiration, the two of you decided to find a cute cafe with outside sitting area so your boyfriend can sketch in peace.

While Rafayel starts with his sketching, you look around. Enjoying how pretty the lights were, this year especially since you could enjoy them with your boyfriend. You're so lost in the way the decorations look that you don't notice Rafayel stealing glances at you. You both stay silent, happy with each others company, without the need to talk. Him sketching away, you looking around with your eyes reflecting the lights around you. You're not sure how much time passes before Rafayel speaks up:

"I'm done" he shows you what he drew, just like he always does. He drew you, looking to the side with your eyes sparkling. You could see the city's christmas tree in the background, but it was clear that you were the main focus of his sketch.

"But that's just me. Didn't we go out, because you wanted to work on tome pretty views?" You question Rafayel, really confused why he once again choose you as his inspiration.

"And I did" he says, waking a sip of his now slightly cold drink.

"You're the prettiest view for me"

You were on your ay back to your house, only worrying about what you'll have for dinner, when a voice from behind you scared you:

"Finally, started thinking that I should drag you back from that work of yours" you knew exactly who this voice belonged to. It was Sylus, your beloved boyfriend.

"What are you doing here?" You weren't expecting to see him today, knowing how busy he can be in N109 Zone.

"Heard that Linkon is finally decorated for christmas. Thought you might want to see it, kitten" he steps closer to you.

"I'd love that" you smile, when Sylus offers you his hand.

"I also learned my lesson and made sure twins are very busy so they can't interrupt us" you laugh, taking his hand.

You both settled on taking a stroll around city's park, that's known for decorating each tree with lights. You take in the scenery, squeezing his hand slightly. In the middle of the park, when usually are standing a bunch of vendors, is now a huge christmas tree. You stop Sylus, so you can admire it's beauty. You place your head on his shoulder, sighing slightly. You couldn't wait to decorate your own tree. The walk didn't last long, due to the cold weather. Before you know it, the two of you were walking back to your house, Sylus agreeing to stay the night there with you.

"Thank you for your company, kitten" he kisses your hand.

"Oh don't be like that! I little break never hurt anyone" you try your best to convince your very stubborn boyfriend to finaly go on a break.

"I can't afford to take a break" he says, looking at some paperwrok one of the nurses gave to him just now.

"Wrong, Dr. Grayson told me that the hospital will be able to run just fine if you take a small break with me." You take the papers out of his hand and place it on his desk. "Now, enough with this talking, let's go"

You knew, you couldn't take Zayne too far from the hospital as his break will not last long. Luckily, there's plenty of christmas decorations surrounding his workplace. You pick a bench close to a christmas tree, knowing that Zayne's legs could use a break too with all the walking around the hospital he done today. The two of you chat about your favourite ornaments you spot on the tree.

"I'm telling you that the white cat with sunglasses and Santa's hat is the best one" you argue.

"I prefer the big stars with blue glitter on them" Zayne says and you hum in response spotting one of the ornaments he was talking about.

Both of you fall into comfortable silence, watching the lights glow. After a while, Zayne places his head on your shoulder.

"You were right, little breaks are fine. As long as you're with me during them."

You and your boyfriend decided to meet up close to your favourite cafe so together you can go check out city's christmas decorations. You were running a bit late so once you got there, Xavier was already waiting for you with two sets if hit drinks in hand.

"This one's for you" he hands you your drink after the two of you greet. You thank him with a smile.

You start walking hand in hand with your boyfriend, sipping the drink he bought for you. "Look! There's some cutouts you take take pictures in!" You point then out to Xavier "we should try it!" You take his hand and start dragging him towards the cutouts.

"Would you like a picture?" The worker in elf costume asks, once they notice both of you coming over.

"Yes, thank you" you give them your phone and the two of you stand behind the cutouts. You take pictures with some of them and once you're done the worker gives you back your phone.

You and Xavier now move towards the christmas tree thats the main focus of this area of the city. You both watch the lights glowing on it for a while. Xavier takes out his phone and asks you if you want to take another picture with him. You agree and pose with him for a selfie. It was simple, the two of you close to each other, smiling with glowing christmas tree in the background.

"This one might be my favourite"

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[sulphuricgrin]

WIP Wednesday

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I've done another colored sketch of Calithil (one day i'll line and shade it) ☺️ Now onto the chapter wip (that's now at 29.7k *sweating*) Sorry this is long! I do so enjoy writing him and Lilliandra researching an incredibly weird corpse. >:3

As always, if you see a mistake, no you didn't.

The third day at Glister Vale has them taking a break from what was written on the ribs and focusing on the spine and mouth. That had its own complications ― starting with the full  two hours they took deliberating on how to tackle it. There was the idea of cutting the head off, but Calithil wanted to hold off on that. He felt similarly about the spine, especially when they weren’t sure if the skin or spine or both were the reason behind the raised markings. Each idea she gave, he found a problem with or had hesitation. Each idea he gave, she thought was too rigid. 

They were at a stalemate. 

“Is there a reason you’re being difficult today?” she asks from her seat by the corpse. She sits on stool, elbow on the table and her cheek in her hand. Her gaze stays on Korina, trying to think of other ideas. 

A sigh. “I could say the same of you. It is almost as if you wish to barrel through this as quickly as possible. Is there somewhere you need to be, or have you decided you suddenly do not enjoy my company?” She gives him a sidelong glance, where he sits at his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he watches her as always. 

Looking back to the pale eyes of Korina, she replies softly, “No.” 

“Then why is today difficult?”

She shrugs. Perhaps she was getting antsy about collecting that book finally. Two back to back failures was not something she was used to. Standing up, she opens the jaw of the girl again, taking a glimpse at the inky glyphs that made her eyes hurt if she stared for too long. She lets go, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She waits for the pain to ease up ― it felt like a migraine that came about from a rainy day. 

“How bad?”

Another shrug from her. “Odd how it behaves,” she comments. Eyes opening and staring back to the corpse, she hums, thinking. “What if I were to look at it past the discomfort point?”

A snort, so soft she almost misses it from him. They watch the other. A subtle smirk on his lips. “Do you have a masochistic streak I was unaware of?” She considers it. Does she? She knew she had a sadistic one at times. It wasn’t as if she actively went out of her way to hurt herself, nor was there anyone that was brave enough to― Oh. Oh. Her mind thinks to hands on her throat. “You do, if that expression is―” 

She blinks at him. “What expression?” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m going to see if I can catch what the glyph in her mouth is.” 

Calithil stays quiet, a contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he gets up to join her side. Neither knew if there might be an unintended effect from her idea, but at the same time, neither trusted bringing in a subject to take her spot. “You understand the potential risk to this, yes?”

“Maybe. The risk could be even worse than what we could ever imagine,” she jokes, but they both know it’s the truth. Calithil hesitates when he raises his hands. For what, she doesn’t know. He drops them, a frown pulling at his lips. 

“I would prefer not to write you off as just an… unfortunate accident.” 

Gold meets with light green and Lilliandra smiles sarcastically. “How sweet.” Her hands cup the girl’s jaw and opens them once more. 

The pain builds slowly as she stares, the glyphs stubbornly staying hazy, blinking. But she’d like to think she’s far more stubborn than some magic. Headache turns to a tension behind her eyes, harsher, making her almost flinch. A hand gently settles on her back, just below her shoulder blades, keeping her steady. Tension pivots to one of the worst migraines she’s experienced ― an almost blinding pain in her left eye. The blinking glyph begins to slow, the haze lifting. She vaguely feels a wetness on her face as the pain and pull to stare turns near all-consuming. Calithil gently calls her name, but she persists. His hand grips her upper arm to pull her away, but she fights to stay ― just a bit more! The glyph blinks once more and suddenly it’s perfectly seen. She doesn’t fight when Caltihil grips onto her more tightly and yanks her away. 

She doesn’t expect a few things after that. One, as soon as her eyes were off the glyph, her body collapsed ― as if the strings keeping her up had suddenly been cut. If not for Calithil already having one hand on her, she’d likely have smashed her head onto the table with the way her legs gave out. He quickly eases her body down, laying it down as he sits by her. 

Two, the way he held her face in his hands, the way his eyes held the smallest sign of panic. One of his hands move to support her neck and the other pulls away and―

Three, blood on his hands from her face. She’s not exactly panicked like the mer before her, more so confused when she notices the deep red.

“Breath,” he tells her. Why? “Breath.” She tries to follow anyway and finds it hard. It’s painful. But it pales in comparison to what feels like a spike through her eye and behind it. Her breaths come labored and short. She closes her eyes, trying to― well, she doesn’t know. Her head is shifted into his lap. “Well, was it worth the suffering?” his voice is tight, but she can tell he’s trying to joke. 

She moves to give him a thumbs up, but realises she still can’t raise her hand. “Yes,” her voice barely sounds like her own, slurred under the weight of everything. 

Warmth and the light glow behind her closed eyelids tells her Calithil is trying to heal her. Was she really in that bad of shape? Yes, she realises, when it feels like the weight on her chest suddenly lifts and the pain in her skull ebbs. The needle feeling in her limbs tells her she’s regaining use of her body, but she isn’t ready for the pure exhaustion that follows. She groans, not caring to move from his hold just yet. 

A strained chuckle. “I suppose I will not be telling Psylia that you died.”

“Debatable.” She opens her eyes again. 

There’s a grimace on his face. “That was incredibly risky,” he tries to chide her. 

“Perhaps, but I saw the glyph,” she says rather pleased with herself. “Are you going to keep holding me like this?” 

A beat. “Perhaps.” His thumb swipes along her cheek, leaving a sticky sensation, and she glimpses more red. He must have caught the curious look she had, because he raises his hand slightly above her face, showing her a better look. “Whatever magic that was, it left your eye bleeding. Thankfully, restoration seems to be helping. Of course, you no longer looking at it also stopped it.” 

“Likely.”

Silence again. Then he asks, “Can you stand?”

Wiggling her toes in her boots, she feels a sense of deja-vu. “Most likely. Just―” Slowly she moves her feet, trying to judge her current strength. “―I might need some help.”

He stands first, then offers her his hands, then pauses. Looking at his bloodied hand, he wipes it against his leather apron and offers it back to her. Carefully, they pull her back to her feet. She goes for her forgotten stool, but he pulls her towards his desk. She follows wordlessly. Guided to his chair, she takes it in silent appreciation. Her tired body slumps into it, her head tilted back as she stares at the ceiling. 

“Can you draw the glyph?” 

“Yes.” She brings her head back down, looking to the desk for paper and― A silverpoint stylus is given to her as she collects a random sheet of parchment. A few quick scratches later and she leans back into the chair with a sigh. He reaches for the paper and walks away. She watches him, the way he looks between the written glyph and their work on the board. 

Quiet.

Quiet from him as he thinks. A tired quiet from her as her body aches. She yawns, then grimaces at the sensation of dried blood cracking on her skin. She would need to see to that. Looking around the laboratory, she finds the small basin in the corner of the room and the water carfare near it. She gets up to clean herself but―

Her body stumbles. 

Calithil helps steady her with a hand catching her upper arm. “You could have asked.” When she’s stable, he lets her go, but slowly. He follows her as she walks, a hand hovering at her back. 

“You can’t blame me for expecting to be able to at least walk on my own.” 

He thinly smiles. Together they get to the basin and in turns, they finally clean themselves of her blood. She walks more steadily back to his desk, but his hand still hovers behind her. With a huff, she sits back down. 

“I think we should take a break― Actually, you should.” She narrows her eyes at his insinuation ― that she was too weak to continue. “I’ll check on the other ongoing projects, give you some time.” 

Looking down at her hands that were in her lap, she frowns. She knows she’ll recoup easily. What would she do while she waits for his return? 

Wait―

She could see about sneaking into her mother’s office. The last two times were late evenings. Perhaps she was picking the wrong times? 

Calithil pulls her from her thoughts. “Will you be fine? Or should I expect you on the floor when I return because you chose to do something risky without me here?” She looks back to him and waves for him to go, trying not to scowl. “Will you mope because I’ve offended you?” 

“Hardly.” Maybe. If she didn’t have somewhere to sneak to. 

“Hmm.” He looks her over, and when he seems content about something, leaves.

[noxiousgrace]

TCF/LCF headcanon

Honestly one of my favourite headcanons i have so far about krs and og!cale is the fact they're both able to draw

I have explanations for both

The reason krs is able to draw:

During the cataclysm, a lot of methods of recording things became very scarce. (We see this during the sealed gods test when krs relies on the abilities of other people to record whatever they'll need for the future. Information about monsters, how to deal with them, etc.)

And I'm assuming electricity relies on ability users as well considering how devastating the cataclysm was to earth. It would be hard to maintain a power plant during the beginning whilst not knowing how to survive in the new ruined world, so charging devices are out of the question. As far as batteries go, they aren't permanent solutions either, and would run out eventually.

And relying on ability users isn't easy either, first of all getting a power specifically needed for this issue is a very rare occurrence and people on earth aren't sure how these abilities are assigned (they do have theories that it's related to the og persons personality, but I haven't seen any confirmations on this. And i haven't finished reading book 2 of lcf so if the answer is a spoiler from that half then correct me if I'm wrong)

And krs received the ability to record everything he sees and to never forget it, he has the perfect opportunity to make physical copies of information and the subsequent imagery. This would make information accessible to everyone else and also raise their chances of survival because they won't be taking blind shots in the dark in intense situations.

There isn't a reason why krs would refuse to learn how to draw and show everyone what to be wary of.

I don't think he would've learnt how to draw as a kid. Doodles before his parents passed away? Definitely. After moving in with his uncle and having to survive the abuse that followed it? Probably not. (But this doesn't negate the fact he could've tried drawing his parents so he wouldn't forget them, but the quality of his work would've upset him and he could've given up on that along with everything else)

Another reason is to have identification of deceased bodies. He remembers everything, and would easily identify any corpse out in the field as long as he'd seen that person before their death.

In case any of their records or pictures got lost krs would make a sketch and they'd frame it and use it if they were capable of holding any funeral or adding the portrait to the tombstone. (I definitely believe making portraits of LSH and CJS definitely hurt him emotionally)

Why og!cale is able to draw

I don't have a very extensive headcanon as to why og!cale can draw, but i find the idea that he doesn't want to forget his mothers face very endearing. Plus he's from an artisan family and would have to be artistic at some level (well, violan is the artistic one since she values sculptures i think, correct me if I'm wrong) so she could've tried teaching him how to draw and sculpt as a way to bond with him and not leave him as an outcast in his own family. (Maybe she saw his earlier sketches and found his frustration in being unable to replicate jours face and decided to give him tips)

And if they do have a big portrait of jour in the house I'd like to think it was painted by cale

[ravenwriter16]

hiiii! I have a lil what-if question! how would the emperors (mainly eclipse) react to a y/n who is obsessed with the architecture and the politics of the kingdom? like they always wanna join eclipse as he does paperwork (even thought it’d look boring to any other kid), and even join his meetings with officials if possible. and they even take notes, like what they’d do to solve a problem or questions they have! ty for reading <3

Hehehehe, I took this ask and RAN with it. Hope you enjoy!

You look over the scrolls of blueprints holding possible designs for the new schoolhouse. You had worked for days trying to get the permission of the Imperial Table to start on this project of yours, and now you could finally break ground!

With this new building, every child regardless of class can get an education! Just like you had all those years ago.

You look over your shoulder at the giant pin board you had put together. Eyes following the lines of red yarn from one document to the other.

"Maybe...if we build using dragon scales, we wouldn't have to pay fees for wood and stone in the long run--,"

A knock on your door startles you slightly. You sigh and rub your temple, "Come in."

Eclipse steps into the room, his glasses hanging from the chain around his neck. He must have just gotten done with his paper work.

Oh joy...

He smiles when he sees you but it falters when he notices your own pile of scrolls and paperwork. Walking further into the room, he waves in a servant pushing a cart full of food.

"Good afternoon, little comet."

"Eclipse." You give a curt nod, squinting your eyes at a certain sketch on your board.

"Busy day so far?" He muses, walking right up next to you.

You shrug, "I guess. I had to deal with Baron Ruxley in regards to funding for school supplies."

"Is that pig still refusing to budge?" Eclipse glances over at you.

"Yeah...Where you able to review the proposed budget I sent you." You walk up to your board and unpin some cloth. You still needed to decide on colors...

"I did." He hums, lifting a hand and moving some hands behind your ear. You flinch while he smiles, "Beautiful."

You move away from his hand and head over to your scrolls, "W-what did you think of the proposal?"

Eclipse sighs and waves dismissively, "It was too little. Why did you ask for such an amount? You merely have to say the word, and I will give you mountains of gold."

You shake your head, "One needs to put the frog in cold water first if one needs to boil it. If I asked for millions upon millions of gold, the nobles would be opposed to the idea of building the school."

"You shouldn't dwell on what those fools think. Me and your fathers hardly care--,"

"And that's why there is a faction trying to take all three of you down and reclaim the throne." You huff, looking over at him while placing a hand on your hip, "You out of all people should know that better than anyone.

"Of course I do." Eclipse rolls his eyes, "I would have never gotten my position if I was oblivious to such things."

"Then please just treat this project normally. As if a normal person proposed it instead of me."

"But you have hardly shown this much passion for ANYTHING in years." Eclipse gives you a sad smile, "I just want to help..."

You sigh which turns into a yawn towards the end. "Just...treat it like normal...Oh! And thanks for letting me listen in on your meeting the other day."

"Why of course. I was surprised to see you taking more notes--,"

"I have to make sure I know the ins and outs of the Imperial Laws."

"Hmm..."

You both sit in silence for a good few minute. Simply just being with each other. Eclipse taps his fingers on his hips, thinking of...something.

"When is that last time you took a break?" He eyes you up and down as you plop down in your desk chair.

"Uhmmm..." you drag a hand down your face, "Yesterday..."

Eclipse's rays twitch, "What?"

"Yesterday." You shrug and fold your hands over your stomach, "I caught a stroke of inspiration last night and haven't stopped yet. I finished the blueprints for the science wing of the school, so that's a plus--,"

"So that's why you didn't come down for supper last night?" Eclipse's voice starts gaining a bit of a growl to it, "And why you didn't come to breakfast OR lunch?"

You blink and look back down at him, "I did?...huh..."

Eclipse sighs and pinches the spot between his eyes, "What am I going to do with you..." He snaps his fingers and the servant pushes the cart closer to you both, "I took the liberty of bringing you some snacks. Eat."

"Thanks, but I still have so much to do." You shake your head and hold up a finger for each item you list off, "I have to double check the finalized budget, find vendors who are willing to see the actual school-equipment, schedule a meeting to discuss funding with some willing nobles, then I also have to go down to the site where we are planning to build and--,"

You stop when a large warm hand cups your cheek. "Sweetie...Though I am happy that you are finally taking your duties as Crown Princess seriously, and I LOVE talking to you about the affairs of our Empire, working yourself to the bone while also neglecting your needs is something I cannot let slide."

"Oh please..." You roll your eyes, "Surely as Emperor--,"

"I am not talking to you as Emperor." Eclipse shakes his head, his gaze softening, "I'm talking to you as your Father."

You sigh and look over at the food, "You're not going to stop bothering me unless I eat something, are you?"

"Oh most definitely." He chuckles while smirking.

You groan and roll your eyes again, but a small smile works its way on your lips all the same. You get up from your chair, stretching out your back. Eclipse's smile grows as you head to the cart.

"Fine...But you're eating with me." You look over your shoulder at him, "Need to make sure you didn't drug all of this."

Eclipse laughs and nods his head, "Of course, little comet~."

[thegirlgraves]

decay 3A predictions retrospective ˚₊·

a quasi continuation of my decay ch3 route predictions blog post, read it for some extra clarity if you want.

decay chap3 is OUT and i have been (as i said) off the grid enough to play through the entire game with almost no spoilers. i'm really glad i decided to hold off from checking anything, not that i'm particularly active where most of the fans are.

i made a little diagram of all the routes you can take and what decisions lead to what, and i have been pathetically brain rotting about the endings achieved so far while i sit in my classes. SO much shit happens that i genuinely wasn't expecting (somehow? i thought it would be tamer.) and it led to me being EXTREMELY intrigued.

i want to write down my thoughts for this chapter now, before it blends into noise with all of the fanon theories and interpretations that will "muddy" the waters. not saying that as a bad thing, but now is a better time than ever to really write down my PURE interpretation of this chapter minus any exterior forces.

THIS POST IS IN TWO SISTER POSTS! the PREDICTIONS RETROSPECTIVE, and the FIRST PLAY-THROUGH RETROSPECTIVE. if you'd like, go to the sister post after this one, the "decay 3A first play-through retrospective", for more specific screenshot dumps, as this post has hit it's limit lol!

this post is also EXTREMELY LONG, i would suggest opening this in a new tab or something. also sorry guys i am way too exhausted to "credit" all of the devlogs and art in separate links under each and every image, so just assume all art is made by kit9 studios/nemlei. and has been provided in either devlogs OR the game itself.

join me as i journey through the moral decay of andrew graves!

PREDICTIONS RETROSPECTIVE ˚₊·

first of all.

(this game is NEVER beating the incest allegations now)

my predictions regarding the routes being hinted in the andrew/ashley sketch was absolutely, 100% correct. although i'm no genius for being like: "yeah! i got it when nobody else did!" (everyone knew that this was relevant i think...)

"as much as i love a good murder-suicide, maybe we should look within to figure out why we treat each other so horribly?" // "...or maybe i should fuck you."

this predicted the routes that were going to happen. exciting :3

my route predictions THEMSELVES were a tad bit off. i feel like a wall of text would just take way too fucking LONG honestly, so i decided to condense the "predictions" and the "actual outcomes" into two separate images, using the devlog image of the decay 3A graph.

for the ones i got spot on...

SOMEHOW i figured out that the "ending" was a burial-like truce (more elaboration in the original post), basically they bang each other and reach some kind of agreement to Tolerate (love?) each other, but they don't have a healthy relationship by ANY means. although, when i said "Maybe a happier [NOT REALLY] outcome of this prediction will happen though", i wasn't expecting it to be one tiny star-cutscene with the wedding ring that would lead to andrew and ashley BASICALLY "eenee-meenie-miney-moe"-ing between Fucking Killing Themselves OR Getting Married on impulse (AS SIBLINGS), and never interacting with the world again.

batshit insane, i wasn't sure to laugh or cry at how FUCKED it ended up being near the end. so much insane shit happens that i wasn't predicting to Actually happen that, at times, it FELT like i was playing some non-canon fanmod or some shit. (not in a BAD way, but moreso in a "WHAT THE FUCKKK THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT" way.)

i will talk more about this ending in the second chunk of this post because what the FUCK at all. this is definitely the ending that left me the most speechless.

for the ONLY other thing i got right (but in the wrong location within the graph/story) was the murder/suicide ending. actually, there are (kind of) TWO!!! wow!!! look at our little co-dependant toxic bunnies GO!!

in one, the vision basically plays out after andrew SNAPS and chases her in the demon realm. and then proceeds to romanticize the SHIT out of killing her, before killing himself after touching all on her corpse (not like That.).

the other ending is... uh, they SPLAT like andrew romanticizes like all the way back in chapter one, AND he mentions it again when he kills ashley (seen above), seemingly loving this idea. after the Fuckery that occurs in the route, they both plummet to their deaths. i notice how ashley seems sad as they plummet. curious, guess we will never know why! because they are DEAD as FUCK in these endings.

. . .

on another note, due to my prediction for the decision being wrong about it being about The Vision (though the question was relevant to it, so maybe i was half-right?), i never predicted that the "___ in a box" ending Would happen, but it does make sense. it's really interesting, although there isn't much because it ends swiftly and without much fanfare.

andy almost seems?? mindbroken in the alternate demon realm? or at the very least, he has fully and utterly given up, and just lives the rest of his uncountable days in the demon realm as one of leyley's playthings. it's a really sad ending where one poor decision of Catering to ashley can Really fuck his whole life up.

notably, when you hit the routes ending, it'll give you a chance to go back, unlike any other endings, to "go back and not make the same mistake." (paraphrasing). when you get to the decision the second time, you CAN'T pick andy again.

(really its probably just so you don't end up in a ending loop in-game, but it's strangely and specifically symbolic in a way i cant word. )

and finally, the decaying along ending is something that is NOT like any of the other routes... ok, it IS but not, it's REALLY one tiny decision that leads to this huge web of outcomes spitting out all at once. decaying along, while the puzzle heavy parts definitely made me want to BASH MY HEAD INTO MY MONITOR AND SCREAM, knowing there were no guides i could consult, i managed to chew through all the puzzles by myself (im kinda stupid though, so my savefile is at 10hrs long because of it.)

safe to say though, if you were expecting any level of "oh! he's a better, more sane, not-as-crazy, not-as-doormatty normal person HERE, right?????"

you're wrong, sorry!

due to the cliffhanger nature of the chapter, i don't really HAVE any "final thoughts" or a retrospective that COULD make sense for the decaying along ending, because there IS no definitive end yet, i survived the decay and now i get to wait at least a year for chapter 4. this is the "ending" that will be mostly left silent and not elaborated too much, as I don't even really know where to begin with it other than chronologically. basically, it sweeps through all of andrews childhood memories in a SUPER LONG puzzle, its incredibly juicy and insightful though.

whats important? the chapter SHOULD'VE been named "Andrew 'i'm normal' Graves", even though he can't seem to BE fucking normal in a single outcome of this game... maybe except the andy one but i REALLY don't see that as the official ending the creators want us to take from this game. (even though they ALL are equally canon endings.)

maybe that's why they decided to call it the cry about it! update instead. LOL.

[egghowl]

The End Times featuring @lilybug-02 's Toasty

Some context and process showcase stuff under the cut.

There is a lot of text.

Ok so Outer Wilds, one of my favorite games ever. I wanted to draw something for it for a while now. With brittle hollow being my favorite planet of the solar system it felt right having it take up most of the image. I added giant's deep because it's simply iconic and you can kinda see it from anywhere during the whole game. And Timber Hearth because it just felt right having it in the picture. Also the supernova is there because it looks cool.

Toasty

why is Toasty experiencing the Horrors?

yeah um so about that. I started working on this image back in september (i don't know why it took me so long to finish it i worked on it most of the time [you do not want to see the state of the half bread chaos fanart i've been making for like 2.5 years]).

During that time when i was sketching it, lilybug was posting a lot about their OC toasty. Now i didn't really feel like drawing the hatchling at the time and was also heavily sleep deprived so i drew them, mainly for fun. They were on my mind and i wanted to have a character in the middle of the image. Now i planned to replace them with something more appropriate eventually.

Now why did i not do that? To be frank i tried. Quite a few times actually. I tried to replace them with the hatchling, the spaceship, i also tried to put my own character there instead, tried it with the spot being empty (that looked awful), put a symbol of the eye there, silhouette of the far away stranger, ... just over all tried a bunch of things but... none of them looked right.

I kept returning to the sketch of toasty and they always looked the most... present(?) in the picture. None of the other things looked that bad but Toasty just felt correct. Even tho they were "kinda" out of place. I finally decided to color and shade them and they just looked... great. So i kept them there. Even though they should have never been there.

TLDR: they were a placeholder that i tried to replace a bunch of times, and after failing i decided to keep them in the image.

Alright some closing thoughts.

Outer Wilds is a game that means a lot to me as it does to many other people. I could say the whole spiel about how much you shouldn't look up anything about it whilst insisting that you have to play it. But i don't want to do that. I played Outer Wilds when i was going through a bunch of stuff. And during my fractured play through of it, it didn't make all of it disappear or change my world view so much i that i finally stopped... having "dreams". What it managed to do is... calm me down. It was the first time in so long i felt at least partially content with... everything. I am still dealing with all the stuff I was going through, more than ever. But, i am a little bit calmer during it. At least for now.

You don't have to play outer wilds. But i think you would like it.

I want to thank Alex, Kelsey, Andrew and everyone else that worked on Outer Wilds. You all made a very special game that has done what no one else could.

Anyway here are some pictures from the process.

Alright, Byee [Ōō]/

[rarepairdumpster]

Modern Artist AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Artist Silco, Drawing Viktor, The Power of Love, We actually finished something for once!

Writer/Illustrator Silco and animated Viktor climbing out of the page to drive him crazy.

Viktor on Silco's lap, trying to seduce him.

Silco, thinking he's drank too much caffeine or something and is now hallucinating, gripping those elegant wrists he had sketched/described so many times. Stopping those hands from sliding under his shirt.

"You have a job to do, boy."

"I'd much prefer to be out here, with you."

Viktor brushes his fingers against Silcos' cheek and he can smell the graphite and feel the trace left there. 

"You're far more interesting."

"No" Silco insists, scowling, "the book I'm working on is interesting. That's why I'm working on you.  It."

Viktor pouts and Silco curses himself for making Viktor's lips so plush and tempting. 

"I don't like the others," Viktor sighs, laying his head on Silco's shoulder and toying with the top button on Silco's shirt. "They're so...derivative."

Silco twitches as he feels a warm breath gust against his neck.

A similar twitch happens in his groin.

Clearly a sign that its been too long since he went to a bar and got laid. 

Silco tries to cover his reaction with an annoyed huff.

His work isn't derivative, after all

Viktor chuckles. "Isn't being with me a little masturbatory anyway?" 

Viktor's long, delicate fingers trail down to Silco's belt buckle and he turns his face to Silco's ear. "You did create me."

Viktor starts to nose along Silco's ear as he feels the man getting harder beneath him.

"And think about it. The sooner the book is finished, the sooner I'll be sitting on other peoples' shelves. I'll belong to them then. Don't you want to keep me to yourself for a while longer?"

Silco can't help but groan when Viktor slips his hand into his loosened trousers. 

"Viktor..."

"I don't hear any more protests," Viktor hums, leaving a soft kiss behind Silco's ear. 

"Let me take care of you... you've been working so hard."

Silco is definitely losing his mind, he decides, as the hand that is a figment of his imagination feels so very real as it begins to tease his cock.

"I feel it every time you draw me," Viktor continues, winding his other arm around Silco's neck, pressing closer.

"Like every emotion coming through onto the paper. Into me"

Silco's breath hitches.

Viktor starts to trail kisses along his jaw.

"I felt it....when you lingered on my lips....my hands....on the curve of my back when you let Talis bend me over. When you let him take me in missionary, I could feel your attention follow the spread of my thighs."

Viktor squeezes his cock just a little.

"I could feel how much you wanted me. How much you loved me."

"I do," Silco breathes, finally allowing himself to wrap his hand around Viktor's waist, knowing it would fit perfectly. "I never meant..."

Viktor cuts him off by finally kissing him, and Silco is amazed by how real he feels. The taste is metallic but not unpleasant and Silco knows he'll never forget it. 

Viktor was right. He did love the boy. Far more than his other characters and to the point of devotion. Viktor was perfect. Not just created by him but, unintentionally, for him.

Viktor moans into the kiss, soft and low, and it sounds just how Silco had imagined it would.

Silco doesn't know when he stands, but he recognises the moment he sets Viktor on his desk with more force that he probably should have and sends the stack of finished sheets scattering

Viktor gasps please when Silco grinds against him, then reclaims his lips, passionate and needy.

Silco can't make sense of this and doesn't really want to. Not when the man he'd given a piece of his soul to was naked and desperate on his desk. 

Viktor pushes Silco's slacks down and grips his ass with both hands, pulls him closer, closer, closer.

The next thing Silco knows, Viktor's thighs are hiked high around his sides, and he's pressing balls deep.

Everything about Viktor feels sublime, inside and out, as Silco grips Viktor's waist and fucks him deep and slow. 

Silco wants to drag this out as long as he can. He wants to savor every soft moan and whisper of his name that falls out of Viktor's mouth. 

In this moment, Viktor was his and his alone.

"I knew," Viktor gasps, nails digging into Silco's skin along his strong back. "I knew this would feel so...so good."

Silco touches and traces his fingers along every inch of Viktor he can reach, addicted to the soft skin beneath him. 

Viktor starts to move against him and Silco picks up his rhythm, growing closer to his climax. 

"Oh, my darling boy," Silco mummers into Viktor's ear, holding Viktor close as he pounded into him.

Viktor winds his fingers into Silco's hair and grips just on the right side of tight.

Uses his good leg to encourage the pounding Silco is giving him.

Silco knows he's close, but Viktor is clamped onto him like a vice and he couldn't pull away if he wanted to. 

"Stay in me," Viktor whispers like a secret, a spell, and a pact all in one that Silco can't disobey.

It's only a few more thrusts before Silco is cumming deep in Viktor, pressed close against him with his entire body

Viktor let's out this long, satisfied sigh -- as if he's been waiting to feel that rush of heat for the longest time. 

His hands grow gentle, petting Silco.

Silco holds Viktor tightly, afraid of what will happen to him if he lets go.

"My sweet muse," Silco sighs, kissing Viktor's face and lips. "Oh, my love, my Viktor." 

He hates that he can already start to feel tears sting at his eyes. Silco knows Viktor isn't real and he knows he can't have this forever.

Viktor is in no rush to leave. Lets Silco hold him so tightly, like he might break into pieces, if the man lets go.

"Silco," Viktor breathes as the man soon presses his face into his neck. "I'm here. I'm yours."

Silco isn't aware of the time passing, but he feels when the temperature drops.

Feels the goosebumps rise on his bare legs, slacks and boxers still in a pool around his ankles. 

"I need to dress," Silco sighs.

"I know." Viktor cups his cheek for a moment and smiles a little wryly. "Don't want you catching pneumonia and perishing on me."

"Please don't..." Silco isn't even sure he wants to say it. "How do I see you again?"

"How did you see me the first time?" Viktor kisses Silco's cheek and he can already feel the tangibility of Viktor's touch waning. 

"I'm always with you, love. In your heart and on every scrap of paper you mark up."

The next time Silco sees Viktor, its months later, towards the end of the release party, when Silco is bone-tired from socialising with people he half-tolerates and is looking for an excuse to leave.

Silco happens to be looking out the window, at the street below, when he sees Viktor looking around like he might be lost.

Silco's hand tightens around his nth champagne flute and then he's making excuses, claiming he needs some rest if he wants the sequel to be of decent quality. 

Viktor beams when Silco emerges onto the streets, eyes lighting up.

And Silco thinks, if he's losing his mind, at least it'll be to something, someone, that makes him happy

Silco rushes to Viktor and hoists him up into a half spin as the boy laughs above him. Once Viktor's back on the ground, Silco raises a hand to cup Viktor's face. 

It's warmer than he remembers but Silco cares more about the golden eyes he's finally able to stare into again.

"You're here."

"Of course," Viktor answers softly, expression tender as he smoothes his hands over the lapels of Silco's coat. "Couldn't miss the big day, could I?"

Silco flashes a rare smile, then pulls Viktor into a kiss and oh

The metallic taste he expected was gone. It tasted like...

Silco pulled back suddenly, causing Viktor to chuckle a bit. 

"Are you...?"

"Here." 

There's a gleam in Viktor's eyes when he pulls Silco back down into another kiss.

Silco indulges the kiss for several intense beats, heart thundering in his chest. And gods, he wants to keep indulging, but ---

Silco pulls back, hands cupping Viktor's face like he's the most precious, most fragile thing. Silco feels like he might shatter himself. Feels the ache of longing pull at his face, knowing he probably looks pathetic. 

"How? How are you here? How are you....real?"

Viktor looks at him, eyes so soft.

"Does it matter?"

"A little," Silco replies. "It would solidify whether I actually need to check myself into the psych ward or not."

Viktor laughs and it's the most beautiful thing Silco has ever seen or heard. 

"In the end, you finished the book," Viktor explains. "Your love for me is why you finished and maybe the pages couldn't contain my love for you either." Viktor closes his eyes and leans into one of Silco's hands.

"When I woke up here I had to see you. That's all I know."

Silco feels a crush of emotion at hearing those words and he surges forward to kiss Viktor again.

At the end of it all, Silco doesn't know and doesn't really care why Viktor's here. Just that he is and he'll never ever let go.

Arch + Woods

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ: ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ||

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, but I’m your stupid, so who’s the dummy here?”

“You. It’s still you.”

Miles huffs a short laugh, brushing his hair through his hair. You bump your shoulder against his slightly, making him raise a brow before mimicking your action but nudging you gently instead. 

“Did you have dinner yet?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips at his question. “Why? Wanna go have dinner together?” You hold up a hand, beginning to chuckle smugly at his wide eyes.

“I mean, only if you want to. I know a pretty good gazpacho place downtown.” He suggests. You hum, kicking your feet and letting them land against the delicate glass windows that were right below. 

“I dunno. I kinda like the view up here right now.” The city is stunning at night. Never had you imagined that one day you’d be up here on the Empire State Building, chilling beside the one and only Spiderman. 

And yet, here you are. You sneak a glance at him, your shoulders relaxing at the sight of his closed eyes and soft smile. A gust of wind makes him scrunch his nose, the wind carrying along the delicious scent of the various restaurants far down below.

“Yeah, I’m starving.” 

You flinch when he suddenly opens his eyes, averting your gaze in case you’d been caught staring. It’s weird though, this sudden panic that crept up your heart at the thought. He’d seen you staring at him plenty throughout the time you’d known him, when you were drawing him. 

What’s so different about this time?

You dismiss it with a casual wave of your hand, gesturing down below. “Well, I’m sure that Mr Spiderman over here can be back real quick with some food.” You tease lightheartedly with a mischievous smile, drawing your knees close to your chest and tilting your head.

He thinks it over for a moment, seemingly accepting this proposition. “Be right back.” He promises, slipping on his mask and standing at the edge of the building. You watch in awe as he jumps off fearlessly, your heart momentarily lurching in your chest at the smug smile he tosses over his shoulder while he does so.

God, that idiot. You shake your head fondly, rolling your eyes. He’d never cease to make you worry from all the times he recklessly jumped off absurdly tall structures.

True to his word, he returns not even ten minutes later with a large plastic bag of takeout, casually walking back up the walls of the Empire State Building. 

“Showoff,” You scoff, though you’re grateful for the large packet of fries he’d included in his little food pickup venture. 

“Yeah, yeah. I think you’re probably the only one who’s ever ordered Spiderman to be her personal errand boy,” Miles sits down cross-legged on the floor, grabbing the food and laying out the various containers. 

You sit down opposite him, taking the chopsticks and removing the wrapper before holding it out to him expectantly. He pauses, looking up in confusion. “What?”

“There’s this superstition that my mom taught me. You gotta pull on the other end and if the chopstick snaps in half perfectly, it gives you good luck or something.” You say, raising a brow expectantly. 

He pulls off his mask and tucks it into a pocket, deciding to entertain your actions. He grabs the other end and pulls.

The chopstick snaps in half.

You stare at the uneven end that had broken off in your hand, Miles grinning in amusement as he sets down the shorter half.

— — — — — 

Tossing the tote bag aside, you set down the sketchbook on the desk. Collapsing on your chair and flipping open the book, you stop at the torn out page where he’d sketched you on the rooftop earlier.

Your fingers trace the outline of your face, stopping at your upturned lips. Now that you’d parted ways, you take the time to fully see exactly how much detail he’d put into his drawing. He’d captured the focused gaze directed on the sketchbook on your lap, down to each strand of hair blown carelessly by the wind.

Did you really look this pretty?

You flinch. Drawing your hand close to your chest, you close the sketchbook and lay down on your bed instead. The phone dings with a new message and you check it, half expecting it to be from Miles.

mOM [ 10:00 PM ]: Did you finish Ms Dawson’s assignment?

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips before your eyes widen, surprised at the sudden dampened mood. Maybe it had to do with the takeout. Did you eat something wrong? You don’t recall being allergic to anything, though.

The odd feeling in your stomach doesn’t cease, and you frown. Rubbing small circles on the bare skin, a thought occurs to you. 

You pick your phone back up, opening google and keying in a new search. Your breath hitches at the first search result, slamming your phone screen down next to you. You stare up at the ceiling, completely caught off guard. 

Your phone chimes once more with a new text notification, and you peek at it.

Bug Boy [ 10:00 PM ]: see u next week (o^▽^o) 

You find yourself smiling at the kaomoji he’d used, knowing full well that he secretly liked it.

You shut your phone off after a moment, turning to lay on your side before drawing your knees close to your chest as a burning flame creeps its way up to your cheeks. Your eyes squeeze shut, trying to push down the flurry of emotions that makes its presence well known in your chest, your face growing hotter by the minute.

Shit.

— — — — — 

Searching: || Chopsticks breaking unevenly superstition ||

About 237,000 results (0.34 seconds) 

Chopsticks! - Zojirushi Blog

3 Aug 2014 - When you split a pair of wooden chopsticks and they break unevenly, it is a sign of unrequited love. Still others say it means you're going to …

— — — — — 

@oh-kurva @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas @horologiumwise @ken-zah @sockgoblin @itstooearly-its3am @anuncalledbridge @ditto737 @sophipet @mirophobic @dilucpegg3r @urmotherswhor3 @arraxthatsonjah @ameliabs-world @superiorbyfar @swaqlover @janyiahsucks-blog @choco-malk-blog @akemiixx01 @a-cult-leader @berryunderscore @scarletrosesposts @stargirlhayven @bellstwd @edgyficuselastica @psyche404 @sukisprettyface @brunnetteiwik @axeoverblade @amo-a-los-postres

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 17: Let Me Forget

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.4K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

With the medley of parchment laid out on Gale’s lengthy kitchen table, the silence hangs heavily over the room, suffocating the air with an oppressive stillness and unspoken words. The only sound is the angry rain, drumming on the grand, arched windows, and the raging wind that buffets the manor with forceful gusts. 

It is a foreboding sound. You have never been afraid of storms; you enjoyed watching them before, but you find yourself closing your eyes at every quaking groan of Gale’s tower and every rattle of the windows as they hold out against the blustery squalls. 

Gale finally takes one piece of parchment and examines it. His brows furrow, and he rubs his chin. Eventually, his eyes flit up to Astarion. 

“Dal’s.” Astarion sighs, answering the unasked question. Wracking his fingers through his hair, he points to each piece. “Petras’s. Yousen’s. Violet’s.” 

Shadowheart’s voice is softer than normal when she speaks. “Where are your siblings, Astarion?” 

“In the Underdark, as far as I know.” He shrugs. “I never returned to see them.” 

Your hand coasts over the indented, scarred skin of your arm from the time you visited the Underdark. “They were in the Underdark. They were using the Arcane Tower as a home.” 

“You saw them?” Astarion asks. “All of them?” 

“Dal, Petras, and Leon were definitely there, as well as the spawn we set free.” Your fingernails bite into your scars as you try to repress the memory. “I’m not sure about the others.” 

“Did they say anything?” Astarion turns to you with his speech a little more rapid than usual. “Anything at all?” 

“It was many moons ago, Astarion. They weren’t interested in talking to me much, but no, they never mentioned someone was hunting them or requesting to sketch their scars.” 

“Why do they have scars written in Infernal?” Hecat’s brows furrow as she regards the symbols. “It’s pieces of a contract.” 

“We know.” Shadowheart says brusquely. “We know what it says and what it’s about. What we don’t understand is why it’s here.” 

“Do you have scars like this, Astarion?” Hecat asks carelessly. 

Your whole body immediately tenses, but you master yourself and attempt to appear unruffled by her inquisition. Astarion is capable of deciding how to answer this for himself. 

“I do,” he nods. “A… gift from my old master.” 

“Who must be dead?” Hecat presumes, still trying to make sense of everything. You’re not sure how much you want her to know. “Since you’re here and all, and still a spawn.” 

“Yes, he’s dead.” Astarion answers calmly, but he subtly rests his hand on your thigh, and you realize his fingers are trembling. 

Taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes back while breathing deeply. It is not something you’re used to seeing him do unless he’s trying to calm you. It alerts you to his unease, setting you further on edge. 

“I suppose I will ask the question none of us want to.” Shadowheart surmises with her lips pressed together and a clenched jaw. “Why are Astarion's siblings' scars drawn on pieces of paper we found in a manor hidden by illusion magic?” 

You frown and chew on your bottom lip. “Is it possible that another Vampire Lord can try to fulfill the contract?” 

Gale shakes his head. “We destroyed everything that even dared hint at that ungodly ritual.” 

“We destroyed the paper trail.” You nod and glance at Astarion. 

“But not the pawns of it.” He finishes, looking down at his lap. “The only people living who might be able to tell someone how to complete the ritual are my siblings, me, and all of you.” 

“Hells.” Gale rasps, his hand rubbing his forehead. “Do you really think that’s what this is all about?” 

“It makes sense,” you murmur. “But what we don’t know is if they are trying to collect the spawn that are already marked for sacrifice or if they simply need the markings on them.” 

“Either way, they will collect them.” Astarion concludes bitterly, with one corner of his lips curling up in contempt. “Likely to make sure no one else has access to those markings. Furthermore, the spawn we set free in the Underdark will be rounded up as well. A Vampire Lord is not going to waste time making 7,000 spawn if there are already that many running around in the Underdark who have been conveniently carved up already. Gods. I knew I should have killed them.” 

“So, what do we do?” Gale paces around, clearly agitated. “What can we do?” 

“There are still two of Astarion’s siblings unaccounted for.” You sit back in your chair. “Maybe Astarion and I should visit the Underdark. If they are rounding up his siblings, maybe we can get to them before they do.” 

“And bring them where, exactly?” Astarion spits, twisting in his chair to look at you. “Certainly not here.” 

“Not here, but maybe our house?” Astarion’s brows pinch together, and his mouth snaps shut. You continue, “It’s well hidden; they can hunt in the forests, and it’s already set up for the particular needs of a vampire.” 

You’re not particularly fond of the idea of letting them stay in your house. It feels like an encroachment, but it is the best idea you have right now. Judging from Astarion’s sour expression, he, too, is not pleased with it. 

“Kamena…” Gale’s hands rest on the back of a chair, and he looks at you with his expression clouded by somberness. “I don’t wish to overstep, my friend, but are you certain it’s a good idea for you to return there?” 

Astarion quirks a brow at you, and your hand moves to cover the scars everyone is now staring at. You ignore the urge to get as far away from this conversation as you can and take deep breaths. Admittedly, you don’t want to return there, but you don’t want to stay here either. 

If you’re being completely honest, you would take Astarion, disappear, and never look back. If this Vampire Lord is truly after the contract in an attempt to complete the ritual, then Astarion is in peril staying here. You should be getting him as far away from here as you can.

But you cannot leave your friends, who are now tangled up in this mess. 

“Thank you for your concern, Gale, but I’m fine.” You lie, and you’re rather impressed that you manage to keep your voice steady and strong. “What do you think, Astarion?” 

“I think the more of my siblings we can keep away from them, the better, but I do not relish taking you into a den of vampire spawn who are likely feral.” Astarion rubs his eyes, squeezing them shut hard, creasing the corners. “Perhaps it would be best if I went alone.” 

The thought of Astarion leaving makes your heart thud in your chest, seizing and being crushed under his words. He promised he would never leave you alone again, and now he’s trying to. 

You try to breathe deeply, but the air seems unfathomably thin, and you feel like you’re drowning. Your eyes feel frozen open, just staring at the table but not really looking at it. 

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.  

He wants to leave me alone again.  

Would he ever come back? 

Does he want to come back?

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to gag that voice in your head that tells you to run, to break his heart before he can break yours, and to repress the whirling thoughts of loneliness, abandonment, and dread. 

Is this just his way of trying to get away from me?  

“Kamena?” Astarion touches your shoulder featherlight, but it still makes you jump up. 

Your chair falls backward and clatters to the floor, and you stare the confused faces at the table. You ball your hands into fists at your sides so that they can’t see how badly you’re trembling.

“Excuse me.” 

It takes considerable effort to force yourself to walk down the hallway as nonchalantly as you can, but as soon as you get out of sight, you pick up speed and jog to your room. No matter how hard you try, the panic continues to grow like thorny vines around your nerves, and your breath comes rapidly through parted lips. 

You need a distraction from this downward spiral, so you grab the lock and thieves’ tools Astarion gave you to practice and draw a bath. Sitting in the tub, you listen to the soothing sound of running water, place the lock on a stool, kneel and hunch over the edge, and start trying to replicate what Astarion has shown you. 

Your fingers still tremble fretfully with both tools in hand, and you cannot, for the life of you, find the first pin in this stubborn hunk of metal. Even as your trembling settles and your mind stops its incessant whirling, you cannot get the stupid lock to turn even slightly.  

How many times has Astarion shown me this?  

Would he give you a defective lock you never had any chance of opening? Yes, you think he would. He would find that to be quite humorous once you figured it out. You peer into the keyhole to see if any of the mechanisms look... Well, fuck. You’re unsure what you should even be looking for, and you frown at the lock with spite. 

“You are staring at that lock like it has personally offended you.” Astarion chuckles, leaning his shoulder on the frame of the archway. 

“It has,” you grumble. “It will not fucking open!” 

“May I join you?” Astarion points to the bath. 

You nod, continuing to try to manipulate the lock while he undresses and slips behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and he presses the sculpted planes of his chest into your back, hovering over you to watch your incompetent attempts while he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“I can veritably hear you scowling at me, you know.” 

“Hells below.” Astarion groans dramatically. “This is truly painful to observe.” 

His arms come around you, and his cool hands grip yours as his expert fingers guide the tools in your hand to demonstrate again. He turns the tools slowly, performing some sort of Rogue devilry, you’re quite sure, until you feel a small pop and hear a metal clink. 

“Feel that?” Astarion glances at you, kissing your cheek. “That’s what you’re looking for.” 

He relinquishes his control and goes back to resting his head on your shoulder with his arms tangled around your waist. He murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone again,” you say shakily, swallowing the burbling fear. You hate how pathetic you sound. “Where you go, I go. Remember?” 

“The Underdark is dangerous — far more dangerous now than it was when we went gallivanting down here.” 

You hold your scarred arm out for him to see before going back to tending to the lock. The distraction is helpful, allowing you to focus instead of spiralling. “I’m well aware of how dangerous it is down there now.” 

Astarion’s hand glides down your arm, his fingers brushing over each indented blemish gently. “Are you going to tell me what in the Hells happened down there?” 

“I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “The short version of it is that the spawn down there are feral and starved, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“I suspect there is far more to it than that.” Astarion rubs your back in soothing circles, kissing the back of your shoulder softly. “Alright, fine. Where I go, you go, and vice versa from now on, yes?” 

You glance over your shoulder into crimson eyes. “Promise?” 

He sweeps a lock of your hair back from your cheek and places his hand on his chest, above his heart. “You have my word.” 

You nod with a small smile and return to the lock in your hands before your mind can whisper and pull you under into a riptide of doubt. Astarion brushes his fingers through your hair, untangling any knots as he goes gently. It is entirely distracting, and one of the sharp tools slips from your grasp.

“Focus, darling,” he tuts, picking up the tool off the floor and handing it back to you. 

“I think this lock is faulty,” you huff in annoyance. 

Astarion has always made lockpicking look like child’s play. Most locks take him a matter of seconds to pick; even the ones in the Counting House only took minutes at the most. 

“Do you really think I would do that to you?” Astarion laughs when you quirk an accusatory brow at him over your shoulder. “Fine. Fine. I might for a laugh, but I assure you, this lock is perfectly fine. You’re just too impatient.” 

You groan, rolling your eyes, and take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. A low growl of frustration rumbles in your chest as the tool catches on something and refuses to budge. 

Astarion chuckles as he takes control once more to correct the position of your fingers. “You cannot just brute force it like some barbarian. You must be patient, focus, listen to it, and tend to its unique needs.” His fingers brush the back of your hand softly. “Much like making love.” 

“For the love of...” you scoff. “Did you really just make that comparison?” 

He helps you rotate the metal rods deftly, pressing his body further into yours. “You’ll find it to be accurate. Every lock is different and requires a personalized approach. You cannot just shove the tools in the hole like an oaf and expect it to open and reveal its secrets.” 

“You’re making it sound intentionally sexual in nature.” 

“I cannot be blamed for the fact that dexterity comes in handy in a variety of situations.” He says, clicking his tongue softly. His lips ghost along the ridge of your ear to the tapered tip, and he whispers, “It is how I make love to you, no? Listen to your body, read your mood, and tend to your needs.” 

Heat rushes to your face, reddening your cheeks, and your heart jolts in your chest, escalating into a quickened pace as his words play your heartstrings like a lyre.  

“My mood?” You rasp with a silvery timbre.

The pop of another pin clinks. Astarion rescinds his control but keeps his hand poised near yours, skimming the back of your hand with his fingertips to encourage you to keep going.  

“Yes, your mood." Astarion drawls, "Sometimes you want it tender and loving, and other times rough and wild. Sometimes you want to control; sometimes you want to be controlled. It all depends on your mood, really.” 

You swallow hard, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate all of a sudden. Shivers spread across your body, prickling your skin as Astarion’s lips ghost along the back of your neck, raining kisses down your spine. 

Your hands jitter in the lock, making the rods ting against the metal housing. 

“You’re awfully distracted.” Astarion coos. 

The heat seems to drain from your face and into your lower abdomen, flaring at the seductive, husky baritone of his taunting. 

You clear your throat. “And what mood would you say I am in today?” 

“Hmm…” Astarion hums lowly. He regards you silently for a moment, as if reading a particularly interesting chapter of a book. “I think today you want to be taken, claimed, fucked. Perhaps, if you’re a very good girl, I will give you what you desire if you can unlock that lock.” 

His knee nudges between your legs, edging them further apart, and his hand cups the curve of your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze. Your mouth drops open as his fingers trail through your folds and settle on the intensely aching flesh. 

Your hips jerk, and your fingers quiver, nearly dropping the tools, but Astarion's other hand steadies your grip. “Focus,” he purrs, starting to rub circles around the throbbing border of your clit. “Keep a firm grip on it now. Try rotating it to the right a little.”

He cannot possibly expect you to keep focused like this, and you let out something between a whimper and a mewl, frustration and desire mixed. With his free hand, Astarion takes control of yours, guiding the tool in your fingers to turn the mechanism as his fingers change the direction of their circling — counterclockwise, clockwise, and back — in whatever way he makes you twist the lock. 

Another metallic pang comes from the opening, but you barely hear it underneath your gasps. “Hear that? You’re nearly there.” He groans, pressing chaste kisses down your neck. “Keep going, love. You’ve got this.” 

You are nearly there, but not in the way he’s implying. “Astarion… I can’t... Gods. Not when you’re-” 

“When I am what?” He increases his pace, making you slump over and moan, closing your eyes against the pleasure. “If you stop, so will I.” 

Good Gods. There is almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get him to continue, so you force your eyes to open, center them on the lock, and try to continue manipulating the godsforsaken device. 

Astarion presses his erection against your lower back with a shaky groan. He drags his finger up and down your seam, teasing your entrance, and then back to circling your demandingly pulsing pearl. The sensation is too overwhelming, making your core spasm involuntarily, and the tools drop from your hands in favour of holding onto the edge of the bathtub for dear life. 

His ministrations pause instantaneously. “The tools do you no good unless you use them, darling.” 

You roll your hips in a vain attempt to get any friction, but Astarion grasps them and forces them to remain still. You lean back into him; his cock pulses against you, and despite his outward poise, the low grunts and growls in his throat tell you that he’s losing his composure. 

“Astarion,” you whimper in disapproval. It takes everything you have not to take matters into your own hands, so to speak. 

“You want more?” He taunts, with a featherlight stroke to entice you. “Go on then. Unlock it.” 

You smile at his choice of words and grin at him mischievously. Before he has time to correct himself, your fingers dance, the incantation rolls off your tongue, and the lock clicks open for you. 

Astarion chuckles — rich and low. He kisses your shoulder, clicks his tongue, and tuts. “That’s cheating, Kamena.” 

“You said unlock it,” you tease. “You didn’t specify how.” 

“You naughty little vixen,” he scolds, kissing up the column of your neck. He whispers, letting his cool breath fan your heated skin. “I have half a mind to withhold your prize.” 

“What does the other half of your mind say?” You press into his arousal, rocking your hips side to side. 

“Fuck it." 

His fingers clutch your chin, turning your head in a possessive hold, and he kisses you ravenously. You only feel the blunt head of Astarion’s cock at your entrance for a moment before he drives himself to the hilt with a swift snap of his hips. 

Your eyes roll back, and Astarion’s hand covers your mouth to smother the loud, rapturous cry. 

“We are not at home any longer,” he grunts as he pulls back slowly, so you can feel every crest of his swollen head exquisitely drag across your ridges. “Are you going to stay quiet, or shall I keep you quiet?” 

There is no hope that when you speak, your words will be intelligible, and you simply put your hand over the one covering your mouth to let him know he should keep it there, lest the entire household know what carnal depravity you’re partaking in. 

“As you wish,” he purrs, nipping at your shoulder and snaking an arm around your waist to hold you steady. 

Your thighs tremble as you ride out the relentless pace Astarion sets. The bath water splashes over the edges of the tub with every one of his powerful thrusts. Every thought shatters into fireworks that burst behind your eyes, and all your doubts are drowned away as he slams into you, hitting a spot so deep that it makes your legs weak. 

“You are mine,” he growls, dark and dominating.

Yes. Yours. Make me forget every month, day, second I spent without you. Make me forget.

I want to forget. 

Astarion’s fangs crawl down your neck and sink into your flesh with a quick snap of his jaw. He doesn’t ask permission, but he knows he doesn’t need to. He plays with your clit, the pads of his fingers rubbing and circling, and the combination of all these sensations borders on overwhelming. 

The world seems to fall away around you, and all that’s left is you, him, and devastatingly intense ecstasy. Your hand drops and grasps Astarion’s thigh, fingers squeezing the taut muscles, feeling them work as he pounds into you unrelentingly. You’re a moaning, whimpering, mindless mess as the pleasure grows and grows until every nerve is humming with blissful tension. A loud moan rumbles in Astarion’s chest, and the tension snaps suddenly like an overwrought elastic band. 

You come, hard and loud, thighs shaking, hips rocking into him, every shockwave clenching upon his thickness so strongly that it draws ragged breaths from his throat. 

He removes his fangs from your neck. “Kiss me,” he orders. 

Even though your spirit feels like it’s just finding its footing back in your body, you turn your head with parted lips, blinking at him slowly. Your blood is smeared across his silken mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are glossy with genuine pleasure as he moulds his lips to yours. 

Astarion’s hand wraps around your throat, and he buries his cock as deep as you can take him thrust after sensational thrust. He entices your lips to part, his tongue eagerly seizing the whimpers and sighs from your throat. 

His hips stutter, eyes squeezing shut, and he cries in your mouth as his cock twitches and pulses, spilling his seed deeply inside you as he unravels in the Eden of his climax.  

You both slump forward as you catch your breath, holding onto the edge of the bathtub for support. Astarion’s hand slips from your throat to just under your breasts, and he keeps you pressed firmly to his chest, supporting your still-trembling body. 

In his arms, you feel safe and secure. 

Yet, there is a voice at the back of your head that warns you not to get too comfortable being this in love because if his life is in danger and being in Waterdeep with you puts him in mortal peril, you will send him away. 

You will break his heart to save his life — even if it breaks you.

The shadows spread out around you, with only the soft bioluminescent glow of crystals, flora, and your small fire providing any illumination to the hopeless dark. You gaze at the fire, absently morphing it into shapes of things you miss from the surface — the sun, trees, birds.  

Astarion.  

How long have you been down here trying to track down his siblings and the 7,000 vampire spawn you set free?  

Days? Weeks? Months?  

Long enough for your skin to start losing the kiss of the sun.  

When the flaming figure looks up from the book in his hands and waves at you, tears start to prick your eyes, and you curse under your breath as you relinquish your control and the fire rolls down into its natural state.  

You know better than to allow your mind to wander. Why you keep doing this to yourself, you’ll never understand.  

You glance around your little, makeshift, one-person camp situated in a spot you remember well. You thought it would bring you comfort to stay where you have happier memories, but the barrenness is only another aching reminder of his absence. Sighing, you grab the edges of your bedroll and start wrapping it up. You left your tent months ago when it became too threadbare and worn to be of much use other than slowing you down. 

Your fingers comb through your knotted hair quickly and tie it back. It’s not been properly washed in some time, and it feels stringy and gritty against your hands. You look briefly around the camp before walking down the little slope, taking particular care to evade the spore clouds from the timmask. 

Picking up where you left off the day before, you follow the path and keep a keen eye on the ground. Without the banter from your friends, an eerie silence spreads in all directions around you.  

But that’s how it’s been for months — just you, the road, and your nightmares.  

You crouch down, studying the tracks in the silt. Pressing your fingers into the dirt, you find it to be dry and dusty this far away from the lake. The ground would not hold impressions for long.  

I’m getting closer. 

Something snaps in the murk, making you jump to your feet and study the surroundings, but the darkness is deep and obscure.  

“Hello?”  

The stillness doesn’t answer. 

My mind is playing tricks on me again. 

After adjusting your pack, you do your best to follow the trail. The Arcane Tower looms in the distance, a spire that seems to blend in with the gloomy atmosphere except for the burning braziers giving off their blue glow. A flurry of pebbles bounces down a nearby cliff, clattering against the stone. Perception heightens all your senses, your skin prickles, and your hair stands on end. 

You’re being watched, tracked, and hunted. 

Casting Misty Step, you vanish and reappear, swiftly descending into a crouch, shrouded in darkness. Frenzied red eyes and dirty, gaunt faces begin to appear with their fangs bared in deranged toothy grins that spell danger. They scent the air, and their eyes snap directly to your position, their fingers poised in front of them, ready to claw their prey.  

They twitch and quiver, snarling and hissing like feral animals. You try to speak to them, but your words fall flat, muted by malnourishment and bloodlust. You search the faces for someone you recognize, but good Gods, they are filthy, cadaverous, and emaciated. 

Hells. Are they suffering because I didn’t have the strength to end it when I could have? 

You do the only thing you can and run. Their pursing footsteps thunder like a stampeding herd of Bulette. You sprint, pushing your body to careen over the uneven terrain faster, faster, faster until your muscles burn and cramp.  

But it is not fast enough.  

You scream for Astarion as your mind blanks momentarily from panic, but he’s not here; he’s never here, and he never will be again.  

You trip.   

Gods.   

You trip on rocks and gnarled roots, scraping your knees and palms. The scent of blood in the air only sends them further into a frenzy, and bony hands grab at you from all sides. You try to pull away, but it’s too late. You are jerked forward, back, and side to side as they contend over you as if you are the last decaying scrap of carrion in all of Faerûn.  

Numerous pairs of pointed fangs pierce into the flesh of your arms, legs, and neck. They are not gentle. Hells, they are not gentle at all, nothing like Astarion. This pain does not ebb into a pleasant, dull throb. It is sharp, with ice and fire rending your skin. They shake their heads, ripping and tearing, and their fangs sink through muscle and hit bone.  

How many of them are there? Hundreds? Thousands? 

Crimson eyes and hollow cheeks fill your vision, blotting out everything else. You thrash, you struggle, and you call for Astarion in high-pitched screams, but none of it is of any use. 

You lash out at them with your magic, allowing the flames to envelop your skin, but they hold your arms and legs, grinding your limbs into the dirt. They burn, but they do not stop; they cannot stop. They are too starved and too crazed. They will drain you dry even as they char and blacken.  

It’s over. 

You will die alone in the dark. 

A sheen of cool sweat dusts your skin, you grow cold, and the pain begins to recede into a cradling senselessness. You resign yourself to death as you walk the edge of it. When the darkness calls, you find that you want to heed it and tumble into the respite of your imminent demise. Your heart beats slower, slower, slower. It palpates in your chest, trying to pump blood that is no longer in your body. 

Your eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as they beg to close. Death approaches you, seductive and charming, with outstretched arms. It is attractive and tempting. It whispers relief. Death is all embrace me and never be alone again. It says don’t be afraid. It beckons you to join it in sweet, all-encompassing release. You reach toward it, taking it’s hand, and allow yourself to be led away from the pain, the cold, the loneliness — all of it. 

And you finally feel at peace.  

A voice bellows, agitating the edges of the still serenity you’re sinking into, and fangs begin to rip from your arm and legs.  

A man? 

You blink, trying to clear your clouded vision. The voice urges you to move, to get up and run. You try, but the earth here is unable to swallow your blood quickly enough, and you slip and fall into the pools collecting on the ground. Your eyelashes flutter weakly as you squint to look at the man standing before you, hauling, and throwing the hysterical, blood-mad spawn away.  

Astarion? 

The feeble beat of your heart jolts with hope, and you turn away from death, releasing its hand and resisting its siren song. You turn away from the peaceful nullity it offers, walk out of its dark caress, and back into your body.  

But all hope is expunged as soon as the shroud is removed from your sight. The blurred figure begins to take shape, and previously formless details sharpen.  

No… 

Not Astarion. 

Never Astarion. 

Though you do recognize him, your mind sluggishly tries to connect the familiarity with memories.  

His name. Gods, you know it, but what is it?  

Sebastian. 

The spawn attack, throwing themselves at him, rendered insane by the smell of your blood. You try to push yourself up again, but you only make it to your knees, wavering unsteadily as your head spins and unconsciousness summons. Sebastian starts calling out over his shoulder.  

“Get her out of here,” Sebastian barks to Leon who looks at you with brows furrowed in confusion. “Her blood is only making it worse. Dal and I can keep them busy long enough for you to get her away.”  

Leon nods curtly, sprinting toward you and throwing you over his shoulder. It’s not a comfortable hold, as his bony shoulder juts into your stomach and lungs. The swaying makes your head throb sickeningly, and you fade in and out of consciousness.  

Panicked voices rouse you back from the dark, but you cannot open your eyes. Your senseless fingers twist into your robe as you try to find a way to hold onto your wakefulness.  

“What are we going to do with her?” A woman’s baffled voice quivers. “What in the Hells is she even doing down here?”  

“If we don’t do something quickly, she’s going to die,” Sebastian says.  

“Let her die,” another man’s voice drawls, heartless and cold. “I could use a snack.”  

“Petras!” Leon scolds.  

Your eyes finally begin to open while they debate your fate. You’re slumped against the stone wall of the Arcane Tower. 

“You cannot seriously be suggesting we let her bleed out.” Sebastian mutters from the corner. “She killed Cazador. She saved our lives. She saved Astarion.”  

“She-” Petras stomps with his fists balled at his sides. “ She stood by and watched while Astarion roasted me!”  

Dal scoffs. “Are you still sour about that? Gods. Let it go.”  

“No,” he says, shaking his head and jutting his chin out haughtily. “I don’t think I will, sister.”  

“She means much to Astarion,” Leon sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We owe him to at least try and save her.”  

Your voice is weak, barely even a whisper. “Have you seen or heard from him?”  

All of their heads snap toward you with narrow eyes.  

“Who?” Dal tries to smile, stops pacing, and comes to crouch by your side.  

“Astarion. Have you seen him?”  

Leon frowns. “No. The last time we saw him was at the Black Mass with you.”  

You nod and let your head loll to the side. It takes every ounce of energy you have left, but you cast Detect Thoughts covertly.  

You knew it was a long shot, but they are not lying.  

“Let me die.” You sob. “Have mercy and let me die.”  

When your eyes crack and creep open, darkness so thick that it presses in on you, being drawn into your lungs with every shallow, rapid breath, suffocating you from the inside and out, is there to greet you once more. 

Death had been a mysterious, charming man, holding your hand, and gently walking you into that final repose, and you turned away from him and told him to wait. 

You told Death himself to wait because you thought Astarion was there. 

But he wasn’t. 

He was never there. 

Your eyes cry silent tears of mourning for the loss of the peace that was all but promised to you. Now, you must walk on the precipice of two existences. One in which you exist to hold everyone and everything together — a fearless leader, a lover, a light in the darkness — and the other where you watch yourself continually fall apart, crushed beneath the weight of it all. 

Shutting your eyes so tight it hurts, you clench your teeth, and instead of shying away from the pain, running, as you so often do, you delve into it. You force your heart to ingest your fears, doubts, and suffering until it shatters, you run out of tears, and you let it hurt until that too stops. 

A remarkable numbness circulates through your veins, like a wave cast out from your heart as it burst into fragments of all the things you used to be. There is no happiness or sadness, love or not, just a soft lull into emotionlessness, and you wade ever deeper into the treacle of frigid calm. 

Somewhere, deep inside you, a voice whispers that this is worse, that this is not healing, that this is running. 

You tell that voice to shut the fuck up. 

You manage to slip out of the room without waking Astarion, pad through the silent manor, and go outside into the courtyard. The storm still rages on. Rain splatters against your face, thunder and lightning crack overhead, and the wet strands of your hair whip wildly in the wind. You stay as the rain drenches you to the bone, you’re shivering, and watch the wild orchestra; the chaos of it mirrors the turmoil of your own soul. 

“Sorceress.” The voice comes from behind a locked, wrought-iron gate. 

The voice should make you jump, scream, run, but it does not even spur the shattered remains of your heart to quiver in their grave.  

“Aldous.” 

“My master would like to parlay with you.” He sneers as if it physically pains him to say. “She believes a deal can be struck to avoid fatalities on both sides.” 

“I don’t make deals with Vampire Lords.” You hiss, “You can tell your master I said to fuck off.” 

“Kamena,” Aldous slinks closer to the gate. Can he come through the gate? Is it just houses they can’t walk into uninvited, or is this part of the house? “You did not even ask what her offer was. I assure you that you will want to hear it.” 

Curiosity gets the better of you. “What’s she offering?” 

“Safety, for you and yours, including the blood sucker,” Aldous hisses the last part, and it makes you smirk. It must just be killing him to offer safety to the man who drained him dry and left him to rot. 

“Not interested,” you yawn, and stretch dramatically. “There are other ways to ensure our safety that do not rely on a deal with a Vampire Lord. I much prefer those ways.” 

“What about this?” Aldous holds up a ring. A golden band with a large ruby, but it looks otherwise unremarkable. 

“Jewellery?” You scoff, “Gods. Are you just fucking with me now?” 

“I admit it appears rather unremarkable, but it is the Ring of the Sunwalker. It will allow your lover to walk in the sun again unharmed.” 

Could it be true? Could an enchanted ring be mere feet away from you that will allow Astarion to see and walk in the sun again without fear? 

“What’s to stop me from taking it from you right now?” You stalk toward the gate, fire ablaze in your palms. 

“Ah-ah, Sorceress.” Aldous wags his index finger at you. He holds the ring in his palm, and you realize it’s an illusion. “My master is willing to give up such a unique treasure if you can come to an agreement.” 

“Because she means to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, the one I stopped Cazador from completing. She will be able to walk in the sun, and she won’t need it anymore. Correct?” 

“Something like that.” Aldous smiles snake-like. “So, what do you say?” 

“Astarion and my friends are guaranteed safety, and we get the ring, but what’s the catch?” 

“We require an exact sketch of his scars to complete the contract as well as the incantation.” 

You could end this. You could take the deal, take Astarion, and run as far from Waterdeep as you can, leaving it to its fate under an Ascended Vampire Lord.  

How far would you go to ensure Astarion’s safety? Would you turn a blind eye to another Vampire Lord ascending and all the thousands of deaths that means? 

Could you live with yourself? 

“I will think about it.”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Do we think Kamena is going to take the offer seriously?

I am curious. Would you consider it if it means safety for all your friends and Astarion, and a ring that allows him to walk in the sun unharmed, even if it means turning a blind eye to all that death?

[spookydanamulder-multifandom]

hi! i've written another chapter of my hunger games fafic and i'm just gonna leave it here and hopefully wait for some kudos hehe

it's my variation on "so after" moment (it's kinda spicy)

you can also read it on ao3

fandom: the hunger games

katniss everdeen/peeta mellark

summary: Katniss and Peeta are roommates now, doing their best to heal and bond. And, oh boy, do they bond...

rated: M/E

--------------------------

I wake up from the nightmare. Again.

There was a time when my dreams became less vivid, but lately, they’ve intensified. Sometimes I’m scared to fall asleep.

I glance at the clock—it’s almost 3 a.m.—and head toward the door. I need Peeta. Luckily, he’s my roommate now, so I don’t have to look far.

Peeta moved in with me two weeks ago, after our latest mental breakdowns, and it was the best idea ever. It’s so much easier to live with someone in a house this big than to live alone. We clean together, we cook together—things I could never motivate myself to do on my own. And it’s wonderful to have him so close. We spend a lot of time together, and it really helps my mental health, which definitely needs improving. We finally have time to bond in a normal environment. I can safely say we’ve become best friends. Haymitch laughs at us and doesn’t believe there’s nothing more than friendship between us—but it’s true.

Of course, sometimes it’s hard. Like when I think about his lips—and I do that often. Or when I catch a glimpse of him shirtless. I’m only human, I tell myself. We’re just the bestest of friends. Sharing a bed occasionally—strictly innocent, of course. We did share a kiss once, a long time ago in the house by the lake, but I guess he forgot about that. We were desperate, and it was strictly platonic. Hot, but platonic.

I head to his room—which used to be my mom’s—but notice light coming from the kitchen downstairs. I decide to go there instead. He probably woke up too. That’s just how it is in this house: one of us is always up.

The sketches are incredible. His parents and brothers—just like in the photograph.

“Hey. I couldn’t sleep,” he says with a smile. How does he always manage to smile at me?

“Hey. If you had a nightmare, you could’ve come to me.” I sit down at the table next to him and take a sip of tea from his cup.

“I haven’t even had a chance to have a nightmare. I didn’t sleep at all.” Peeta gets up and pours me some fresh tea. “What about you?”

“I had a bad dream and wanted some company.”

“Always happy to help, roomie.” He winks at me. I hate when he does that because I never know how to hide a blush. Why am I acting like some stupid teenager—after all the things we’ve been through?

“Thank you, roomie,” I laugh. “What have you got there?” I nod toward the notebook under his arm.

“Oh, nothing interesting. Just some drawings of my family. I’m trying to draw them from memory.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure.”

“This is beautiful, Peeta,” I say from the heart, giving him a comforting smile. We rarely talk about his family. He didn’t know for a long time what exactly happened to them, and he’s still not ready to talk about it. Every time we pass the remains of his bakery, he looks away.

“Thanks. I want to draw every person we’ve lost. I couldn’t save them, so I want to save the memory of them.”

“It’s a great idea. Maybe we can write something about them. Like our plant book, but with…”

“With people.” When he says it out loud, it sounds a bit silly, but I’d love to have something like that. Just to remember our loved ones.

“Yes. We don’t have a photo album, so it could work.”

“Let’s do it then. That way we’ll have something to keep our minds busy, too.”

During the call, I tell the doctor about our idea for a memory book, and he’s very pleased. He says it will help us gather our thoughts and that he’s proud we came up with something like this. It means we’re ready to heal. He even promises to send us some paper and painting tools.

We nod in agreement, pleased with ourselves. We finish our tea, heads buzzing with thoughts. Strangely, they’re pleasant ones—about the people we knew.

We sit in the kitchen until the first rays of sun reach our tired eyes. In the morning, we go to our beds for a little nap. During the day, nightmares aren’t as common. I have a scheduled call with Dr. Aurelius at noon, and I need some sleep beforehand—those conversations are usually exhausting.

A few days later, we start our project. It feels like old times, back when I had a broken ankle and we’d sit in my room all day drawing and writing. Those weren’t good times, but I find some comfort in remembering them. It was the first time we did something together that wasn’t for the show.

Days go by, and our book fills with memories. We laugh, we cry, we reminisce.

Peeta still works in town until late afternoon, and when he’s not working, he bakes. He’s the only baker in our District, so he has a lot to do. Sometimes I help, but I don’t have much patience for baking—it’s usually easier for everyone if I stay out of the way. I usually spend that time with Haymitch, trying to convince him to participate in our little project or I hunt. Sometimes Delly comes by, and we hang out together. She sews, and I try to knit.

After all the work is done, we have the evenings to ourselves. When the weather is nice, we sit in the garden—I write, and Peeta draws. When we get tired or overwhelmed, we go for walks. I’ve never felt this good in anyone’s presence. Sometimes I feel a pang of regret that I didn’t notice Peeta before everything went to hell.

Spending time with Gale was nice—he was my best friend—but being with Peeta is a completely different experience. He’s sweet, and now that I know him better, I feel like I can be more myself than I ever was with Gale.

The only thing worrying me in this situation is the feeling growing inside me. Every time Peeta smiles at me, my heart melts, and it’s getting worse every day. It’s even worse when I catch a glimpse of him changing his clothes or working shirtless in the garden.

On Sunday, we go to the lake. It’s September, but the days are still hot. It’s a long walk, but worth it. It doesn’t look like it will rain today, so hopefully we’ll be home before dark. Not that I mind spending the night by the lake again...

We settle on a wooden jetty, dipping our feet into the cool water. Peeta closes his eyes and enjoys the sun. When he sits like this, I have a chance to shamelessly look at him. His hair is longer now, framing his handsome, tanned face with blonde waves. His freckles are more visible than ever because of all the work outside. It suits him. He looks healthier this way.

I wonder how he sees me. I rarely look in the mirror, but when I do, I’m not happy with what I see. My hair is much shorter because I had to cut off all the burned strands. I still have a scar on my forehead from the feast at Cornucopia. It’s hardly visible, but I can see it—and I hate it. I’ve gained some weight since Peeta came home from the Capitol. That’s the only thing I’m happy about. He feeds me all the baked goods, and I have more of an appetite these days. There’s generally more food for all citizens now. Most people still struggle with poverty, but it’s nothing compared to what was before.

The water is very tempting, and I really want to go in, but I can’t bring myself to take off my clothes. My whole body is covered in scars, and I don’t want Peeta to be disgusted by the view. I haven’t taken care of my scars like he did with his, so most of them are still red. I look like a patchwork.

“You know what?” Peeta snaps me out of my thoughts, and I quickly look away from him.

“Huh?”

“I feel like swimming. It’s so hot.” He says, getting up with a bit of struggle from his artificial leg.

“But you can’t swim.” I laugh.

“You taught me once; you can do it again.” He takes off his shirt, then his pants, standing before me in his boxer shorts. Shit.

“Well, I see you’ve already decided. But if you drown, I’ll kill you.”

“Deal.”

Should I... take off my clothes? What do I do?

He tries to swim, but his leg pulls him down, so he has to hold onto the wooden pillars. It doesn’t stop him from fooling around. He grabs my feet and tries to tickle them, then splashes me and does pull-ups on the jetty.

“Go on! I can watch you from here.” I feel stupid—he’s not ashamed to show me his body, and I can’t do the same.

“Noooo. Come on, it’ll be fun. You need fun!”

“Peeta, I don’t feel very good. I’d rather stay here, okay?”

“Okay.” He’s not the kind to want me to do something I don’t want to do myself.

He jumps off the jetty, and the water splashes all over me. I laugh, then grow concerned because Peeta’s not coming back to the surface. I hope he’s just joking, but I’m ready to jump in anyway.

“Hi!” Suddenly, he pops out, splashing even more water.

“Not funny!” I try to look angry, but I can’t hold back a smile.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“Maybe.” He grins and winks at me.

I roll my eyes and try to act indifferent, but I actually really like watching him do pull-ups.

After a while, he gets out of the lake. He looks so stupid—hair dripping, wet boxers clinging to his body. He puts on a t-shirt, which immediately sticks to him, outlining his muscled torso. Very stupid.

“Katniss? Hello? Are you listening to me?”

“What?” Somehow, I got distracted.

“I asked if we should be getting back.”

“Yes, I think so. Let’s go.”

We wait until the sun is completely gone, leaving only orange and grey clouds behind, then go home.

We head back home and step out of the forest just as the sun sets. We stand for a while on the edge of the woods and watch the sun hide behind the mountains.

“It was a good day.” I say, resting my head on Peeta’s shoulder.

“I enjoyed every bit of it, honestly. I needed a day like that.”

“Yes, me too. Thank you for it.” Oh, I enjoyed some things a little too much.

“It was your idea to visit the lake, actually.”

“But you came with me, so thank you.”

“Anytime, roomie.”

We eat supper while watching the news on TV. I hate watching TV, but I want to know what’s going on in the Capitol and other districts. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with all the changes and the new government.

“I can’t wait for the first free election,” Peeta says with his mouth full of porridge. He says exactly the same thing every day.

“Me too, but we all know Paylor will be our new president. She really carries out her duties, and everyone thinks she’s a good candidate.” I’m not that into politics, but the idea excites me. And by choosing a new president as good as Paylor, everyone will forget about Coin…

“I know she’ll win, but the very idea of having a chance to vote? Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.” Sometimes I forget we had our roles in the way things look now. Of course, I’d rather forget, but watching the news every night doesn’t help.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll clean the dishes in the morning.” I decide and head upstairs.

“I’ll do it in a minute. I want to watch some more of the news. Goodnight, Katniss.”

“Goodnight.” I wave to Peeta and disappear into my room. I take a quick shower and don’t even know when I fall asleep.

Without thinking, I get up from my bed and run to Peeta’s room. He’s asleep, but when I come closer, he opens his eyes. He’s a light sleeper.

At first, I dream of Peeta. Naked Peeta. Kissing me. In my bed. Why can’t I always have dreams like that?

Suddenly, Peeta disappears, and I feel a wave of panic. Instead of Peeta, there’s a heavy, cold mist covering me.

“Peeta? Peeta! Peeta!” I scream, but only in my dream. I wake with a sudden urge to find Peeta, trying to shake off the feeling of this horrible mist.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“Can you hold me?” I ask, a bit shaken.

Peeta pulls back the blanket, inviting me into his embrace.

We lie in our usual position. My head rests in the crook of his arm, and he spoons me.

“I had a dream that I lost you. Please, don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t.” He murmurs into my hair, gently stroking it.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, but the feeling of his body being so close drives me crazy. The memories of him by the lake today flow through my mind, causing a funny feeling in my stomach.

I turn to face him. He meets my eyes with a warm smile. I move my face closer, and he brushes my nose with his. I glance down at his lips, and every kiss we’ve ever shared floods back to me. I can’t stand it anymore.

Finally, our lips meet.

“Peeta…” I whisper.

“Katniss…” he whispers back. Now he’s looking at my lips too.

“I need you.”

I tilt my head, giving him access to my neck, and he takes the opportunity. I can feel his hardness pressing against my leg, and it turns me on even more. I’ve felt him like this before, when we slept together on the train, but I always ignored it. I thought it was just natural. Of course, it is natural. But now it makes me want things I’ve never even let myself imagine.

The kiss is soft and searching at first, but it quickly grows hot and passionate. He cups my head in his hands, and I trace his jaw with my fingers.

I let my hands wander over his back, and he does the same. He breaks the kiss when he reaches just above my bottom. He looks at me, searching my eyes for reassurance. I just smile at him, and he grins teasingly.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into another kiss—this one fiercer, full of desire. I feel hunger building inside me, a hunger for more.

I pull up his shirt, and he takes it off. Now it’s my turn to take care of his neck. I shift my body so I can sit on his lap, and I feel the full weight of his desire. I kiss every exposed inch of his skin, occasionally returning to his lips.

I pause when he reaches for the hem of my shirt. The inevitable is about to happen. He reads my expression and asks gently:

We’ve seen each other at our worst, but to me, Peeta is so perfect that I feel like I can’t compare. The way he looks at me though—so full of love and tenderness—I can’t resist him.

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy.

“Yes, I just…” I rest my forehead on his chest, resigned.

“It’s so wonderful, all of this… And you’re so wonderful… I just don’t want you to be disgusted by my body,” I say quietly.

“Katniss, of course I won’t be disgusted. How can you even think that?” Peeta lifts my chin, his eyes tender. “You’re beautiful.”

“How can you know that? You haven’t seen my body. You don’t know how awful my scars are.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop right here. But scars or no scars, I already know—you’re beautiful.”

I lift my arms, allowing him to take off my shirt. Slowly, he pulls it up, and soon I’m bare before Peeta Mellark. He looks at me with a kind of admiration I never expected. He really thinks I’m beautiful.

He gently lifts me off his lap and lays me down, kissing my body. He traces each scar with his fingers, kissing them one by one. Then he moves to my breasts, cupping them—they fit perfectly in his palms.

Before moving lower, he meets my eyes again, silently asking. I take his hand and guide it there myself.

"You're perfect. Your body is perfect." He says and I don't know what to say, I'm not used to hearing compliments, especially in situation like this, besides I think I forgot how to even form words right now.

"Ever since that night by the lake, I can't stop thinking about you and the feeling of you on my lips."

"Really? I thought you forgot and I was going crazy thinking about it."

"I'd never forgot kisses like these."

I’ve seen naked men before—always wounded, desperate, in need of help. Nothing about it was exciting. Sometimes it was even repulsive. But Peeta’s body drives me wild with desire. I need him—right here, right now.

It’s not that I’ve never touched myself—I have, but always as a mechanical way to ease tension. It’s never been about pleasure. Not really. But when Peeta touches me like this, it’s like he’s awakening something I didn’t even know I was missing.

His fingers move slowly over my slick center, searching, learning, exploring me like I’m a secret he’s determined to uncover.

Quiet moans escape my mouth, and I can feel how much Peeta likes what he hears. I reach down to touch his arousal, and he kisses me fiercely.

“Katniss, I want you. I need you,” he murmurs into my mouth, like he’s reading my mind. I pull him closer, letting him settle between my thighs.

We stop kissing for a moment, our foreheads touching, tension thick between us.

“Can I…?” he asks, pausing just above me, eyes searching mine one last time.

“Yes. Yes, please,” I whisper, my voice pleading.

He holds himself back, reverent in the way he moves—like he’s afraid that any sudden motion would shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

My fingers tighten on his shoulders, and that’s all the permission he needs. Slowly, carefully, he presses into me. My breath hitches as my body yields to him.

When he finally enters me, it’s with a tenderness that steals my breath. There’s a moment of stillness—heat and tension mixing as my body adjusts around him, the world narrowing to just this feeling.

It hurts a little, and I gasp—more from wonder than pain. I like the feeling.

“Is everything alright? If I do something wrong, or cross a line, just tell me,” he says. He’s flushed and barely holding back, but he waits.

“Everything’s perfect. Don’t stop,” I whisper, smiling at him. I just want to feel him moving inside me.

My eyes flutter shut as he sinks deeper. Feeling him this close is overwhelming—more than I ever imagined.

We move together slowly, like time doesn’t exist. Every touch is a question, every breath an answer. There’s no rush. He explores me like I’m sacred, and I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Our sighs and moans grow louder as we draw closer to the edge. In the back of my mind, I hope Peeta remembered to close his windows tonight.

Suddenly he pulls out, and I feel warmth spreading across my stomach and thighs just as I cry out—from pure delight, from a feeling I’ve never experienced before.

Peeta hushes me with his lips, but he can’t stop his own moan. His head drops to my chest and we breathe together, heavy and warm.

We stay like this in a silence that says more than any words ever could.

After a moment, Peeta gets up and goes to the bathroom. He returns with a towel and helps me clean up. Then he comes back to my arms, and I run my fingers through his hair while he traces gentle circles on my arm.

We’re still speechless, so we just lie there, holding each other, wrapped in this beautiful moment. From now on, everything will be different.

“You love me. Real or not real?” he whispers after a while.

“Real,” I tell him.

[cool-thymus]

📝and 😈 for the ask game! would love to hear how ur process goes ^^

Hiiii kawkaw! 🥰🌼　[Ask game]

📝 What does your note-taking or sketching or brainstorming process look like? Are you more organized or chaotic about it?

Drawing: first i decide on a style and format (so far i have a limited number of options 😅 some ideas come in the form of a painting, some are comics, and others are simple illustrations). Then i sketch out the idea and decide on the colors. I use a lot of references and take photos of myself if i can't find a particular angle. Sometimes an idea grows from a random ref photo, and my inner voice whispers "let's make this obkk 👀" haha. I'm still learning digital art techniques that's why my process is very basic. One thing i like to do though is to use a red-orange pencil brush for undersketches (i feel less tempted to keep cleaning the sketch lines instead of painting/doing lineart over them).

Writing: this one is tricky bc unlike digital art, there are no standard tutorials on creative writing. I've read a bunch of articles and posts with recommendations, sure, but all the guidelines are too general, which is probably the way it should be to prevent the beginners from reproducing the same templates. I remember one fun tip i picked up from a writing class though: highlight (in different colors) the parts that correspond to all possible senses of perception—sound, smell, temperature, etc. I do this occasionally to put myself in the character's skin and remember that information travels through the setting too :D For my short stories i begin with a couple of key ideas that trigger an emotional response (it could be a cool line, a detail in the bg, a symbolic gesture, anything). As i try to arrange them together, the underlying message of the story appears, and i can start writing the scenes to serve it. Then i take a break and edit the text (all of that in linguistic pain and suffering 🙃)

Short texts don't require much planning, but long ones do, especially if you have a co-writer 🤭 But I think it's too early to analyze that experience yet (i hope this ambitious WIP sees the light of day someday 💛)

😈 How do you beat the urge to procrastinate? What's your worst time-sink?

Surprisingly, I never procrastinate drawing, but i always procrastinate writing (i guess it's just more mentally taxing to me). I write SUPER SLOWLY despite having been dealing with texts my whole life, at work and leisure (even this post! I've started it like an hour and a half ago 😆) So over years, I've figured out some no-no's for me:

no open messengers;

no snacks (i won't write a word unless i finish the food);

no cuticles and neatly trimmed nails (bc skin picking kicks in instantly);

easy access to all research tools and dictionaries (i never write in my native language, so it's a constant idiomatic double check);

writing in public helps bc i feel pressured to actually type at least smth instead of staring at that one sentence for hours haha, but my pc is more convenient than a tablet, so it's optional.

Thank you for the questions! (i say picking at my cuticles 😄)

[arvale-artist]

» Take that ! «

A quick sketch animation I finished in feverish determination within 5 hours or so, haha. All the sounds (including the music) were taken straight out of the game Arvale 2 Ocean of Time.

It's none other than The Great DeMenchev!

With crossbow and broadsword at hand, just like in Arvale 2.

The way DeMenchev fights is REALLY interesting to me and opens up a lot of fun animation ideas that I plan to explore in the future.

If you decide to play Arvale 2 Ocean of Time, an RPG from 2005 you can straight up download here for free and immediately play on your computer, then I want to give you some important advice so you don't get DeMenchev wrecked when you send him to battle:

PRIORITISE DEXTERITY‼

Seriously! It is BY FAR the most important stat! I cannot stress this enough!!! If you do not keep this man nimble and on his toes, he WILL get his ass kicked or end up as a chewtoy before getting flung into the stratosphere. Legitimately, whenever I play Arvale 2 Ocean of Time, I only level up dexterity until I'm out of the first dungeon/ temple before I put any points into aiming or strength. I made the mistake once of not doing this on my very first playthrough.

Why?

Because I was still stuck with the mindset of playing Duncan Forsythe form the first game, who is a knight. Duncan is strong and pretty durable, he fights like a knight. Dexterity was my least concern, because Duncan can take a hit and hit back harder.

And so when I played DeMenchev for the first time- Oh yeah, sidenote, he TALKS. He has a VOICE. That you can HEAR. That startled me SO much on my first playthrough, lmao. I was still used to Arvale 1 Journey of Illusion where you don't hear characters say words at all. And it's so cool- and also shows parts of DeMenchev's personality when you hear the emotion and tone in his voice. » TAKE THAT! « for example is a reference to a voiceline when he manages to get a critical hit in. Or kills an enemy in one big blow. Anyway-

I put an equal amount of points in strength and aiming, completely ignoring dexterity. This worked out only in the beginning.

The lack of dexterity got DeMenchev fumbled BAD. I felt like I was playing on hardcore after a while. The enemy always attacked first, and on top of that kept getting critical hits on DeMenchev! Meanwhile DeMenchev constantly missed every hit, and never managed to doge an enemy's attack. I was constantly low on gold from buying healing potions and herbs, and even started to avoid some enemies or run away from an encounter. What also seemed odd to me at first, while the crossbow bolts did do massive damage once DeMenchev managed to finally hit the target, his physical attacks were pretty meh in comparison. That made no sense to me- they were supposed to be both equally strong, I put the equal amount of points into both of them!

Until… I remember in one part of the game within an an armoury, DeMenchev comments how he can't wear metal/knight armour and only light gear because it's too heavy for him. I also remember him saying something along the lines of not understanding how people, or at least himself, are supposed to move while wearing it… And that's when it clicked for me! I was not playing the Role Playing Game like I was playing The Role of the Specific Character. This isn't an RPG where you're given a blank slate of a character you can try to minmax, no, you're following the story of a specific Character, you're exploring a specific Character, and on top of that he's NOT Duncan from the first game!

In my second playthrough, I did not make the same mistake and actually took on the role and tried to act like the character DeMenchev, emulating how he ticks. And the game became so much more fun and not nearly as frustrating.

Prioritising dexterity first, aiming second, and strength for last was my go to way now, and it worked splendidly. DeMenchev attacked first, rarey missed, was nimble enough to avoid blows, and finally got critical hits in on his own!

But still! Unlike Duncan, DeMenchev does not just dive headfirst into battle, no no no, he plans ahead! Because the monsters, even with optimal stats and gear, can still kick his ass! DeMenchev is an adventurer of the mind instead of strength, seeking knowledge instead of treasure.

The many monsters in Arvale 2 Ocean of Time have both weaknesses you can learn to exploit by paying attention, and strengths you can learn to prepare accurately for. Occasionally I even avoided some to target others first before going back. In item shops, you can buy potions that will boost specific stats. These were a thing in Arvale 1 Journey of Illusion as well, but they were more of a bonus than necessity and you pretty much only used them against boss enemies.

Not here! Oh, this enemy has resistance against magic (crossbow bolts), a strong physical attack but a low health pool and is weak to physical slashing damage? Well then! Either boost defence to tank a few hits or boost strength to try and cut it down quickly with DeMenchev's trusty broadsword.

Wait, did I just say broadsword? Wouldn't such a weapon be too heavy for DeMenchev? YES! Look at him! He needs both hands, is not nearly using it in a classic professional knightly manner like Duncan, and just let's it fall and let's it's weight do the rest of the job once he swings it halfway! The weight even carries him forward! Unlike Duncan/ a knight, who have a firm and unshakable stance.

Sidenote, there's also this bit in Arvale Treasure of Memories where he explains how a heavy broadsword compensates for his weak limbs when questioned, lmao:

And you BET I'm going to exploit this for animation purposes haha. The broadsword controlling DeMenchev's movement/ pulling him along instead of the other way around + his dexterity can make for some REALLY cool looking moves. I already made a post about this topic some time ago, which caused the creation of this animation and (literally) illustrates the point I'm trying to make:

As for the crossbow- It's one handed and DeMenchev, much to my amusement, holds and shots it like a gun:

Those aren't ordinary crossbow bolts BTW, these are always infused with specific magical elements! Fire, water or earth.

This is the reason why you see the monster in the GIF explode- DeMenchev was using a bolt with fire magic. Which, just like with the way he uses the broadsword, is both really cool looking while simultaneously also kinda silly.

And DeMenchev as a character, is very much, incredibly cool while also silly. Play the game if you want to know more. =] It's like… 16 megabytes big but still has a playtime of around 40 hours, which is how you know it's an old game without me even telling you it's from 2005 haha.

The colour choice also isn't random. It's DeMenchev's dark brown from his hair and eyes! A soft shade covering his face can be seen in his dialogue sprite, but I like to crank it up to a bajillion to make the shade from his hat, his hair and his eyes melt into eachother with only the whites of his eyes popping out. I just think it looks cool! And DeMenchev is just super cool. Also gives his face and expressions an intriguing look.

Brown is his (secret) favorite colour BTW. He'll lie it's black but it's actually brown. I got this information from only the most reliable source in Arvale: a wheelbarrow.

[snazzydwarf]

More TCF x Persona rambles

Sitting inside with the rain pouring and listening to the Persona 5 sound track really gets ya braincells rolling! So here's some more ideas I'm throwing around for a fic that may never happen!

Thinking of a transmigration fic, cuz why not lol

Cale is a Wildcard, but no one realizes this until wayyy later.

When Cale is transmigrated he looses his Ancient Powers, he can sense them in the world but can not summon them the first time he unlocks his persona abilities.

Cale's first persona, the one he awakens, is NOT a AP but instead the physical manifestation of his will and rebellion. So Cale now has a new voice in that little head of his, but this time it's power that wont be tied to his plate but instead is own will.

The AP's are personas that he has to try and capture, and like how Joker has to talk to them in P5 Cale has to do the same, but this time it's to remind them of who he is.

Cale can talk to his personas outside of mementos/the dark hour (have yet to decide what game to base it on, thinking 5 but i've been playing alot of 3R lately haha)

For all of his "adventure" Cale wouldn't take any other persona other then his AP's, cuz he knows he would have to get rid of them in order to fit his AP's in instead. And to him, the way they talk and act is far too human for him to abandon like that. (especially those personas that act like children)

Debating on whether or not Cale would have access to the velvet room, however I think Cale wouldn't... maybe, idk it REALLY depends on which Persona game I'm going for. (gestures to persona 5 spoilers-)

Given that the shadows/personas you verse take a lot of inspiration from mythology, folk lore and stories I think the AP's description would talk about their tales in Cale's world such as:

Gluttony: Gluttony is the personification of nature and protection, and is said to have originated from a priestess with shaman-like powers who served an ancient god. In ancient texts she is depicted as a woman with an endless stomach, always looking for another meal and never satisfied.

She would have Bless skills, taking from her times as a priestess, with a resistance against physical skills. (I was gonna add Curse, taken from the fact she can absorb dead mana, however having her being resistant against physical makes more sense.)

Along with Bless skills, she would be a persona with high Endurance (defense) and Agility (dodge and hit chance) with Strength being her last.

Ahhh! I gotta do some sketches of this AU cuz I got brain worms-

Anways! Thinking of Cale's first persona, aka his will and rebellion given form, I was thinking it would draw inspration not only from his time as KRS but also Cale.

The one thing we can always count on Cale for is that fact this MF won't EVER give up and hates being looked down upon. He holds grudges even if he gives the other person a second chance, he's cunning and intellectual, protective of he's close with and especially with those he knows are weaker then himself and is unwilling to harm innocent bystanders.

So taking all of this into an account, as well as his past, Cale's persona would be similar to Arsene in a way. (If you think about it, they share similar traits to each other... like a lot-)

Tall and dark, wearing clothing that hides his body to not only present bigger then what he actually is, but also as a metaphorical defense mechanism to make himself look more dangerous.

Thinking of a long coat, ripped and torn with red splashing up from the bottom where broken chains dangle. Representing his past being both behind him, but also something he would drag around and be in the back of his mind.

Like Arsene his persona would have a mask, showing his ability to change who he is depending on the company and being able to show how he really feels to those he loves.

Dominating, and threatening elegance would seep from his persona.

Hmmm I would think of more but I've been writing this for a while so my brain is a bit broke :( Might do some doodles of this later... maybe.. idk haha Ty for reading <3 <3

[dokidokiliteraturegirls]

Everyone, Feel Less will be going on an indefinite hiatus!

I know you guys are super understanding never ask me for an explanation for these things, but I like to be transparent, so explanation why under the cut!

But here's a bullet list for people who don't have the time to read my whining:

Lack of time

There's a blackout in my area so I haven't had time to draw

I want to practice my art anyway

Please send me stuff to draw to practice in the meantime 💖

You see, I've actually had this hiatus planned for a while. I wanted to do it after Update #37 was posted, as Update #38 would require a lot of art and I needed time to do it. Update #37 was easy, it was only going to require 4 drawings, and I could work on them after work. Then, after a long, tiring week, and only one sketch done, I decided to delay #37 by one week. Post it on August 4th, after all I could work on it during the weekend and once again, after work. Then, after a week that involved a day with 3 hours of overtime, and the first ever wind storm in Santiago Chile that's left me in a blackout for 3 days (so far), I decided that maybe it was time to take that hiatus break I was waiting for.

Lack of time and and electrical current are only some of the factors why I wanna take a break though. Lately I've also been growing increasingly disappointed with the quality of my art. Which, like, is something every artist ever goes through, it's normal. But rushing to finish panels while also not liking how they look is not really gonna help with that. I'd like to take this break to hone the skills I've been lacking in, as I always want my comics to be a reflection of the best possible art I could make at the time.

So yeah! I wanna take a break to practice and take a little step back to catch my breath. If I can ask you all a favour, I think it'd be fun if in the meantime you could send little prompts or interactions with the characters that I could respond to with doodles~ I think it'd be a fun way to not leave the blog to gather dust and it'd also help me practice my art! Do be patient with me though, as, once again, I don't have electricity currently so who knows when I'll have it back. But I'd appreciate it!! I'll also probably be posting things in my art blog @yuiwrong, and once my power comes back, I'll go back to streaming on twitch. Yes, I'll plug those every single time I go on a break, and no, you can't stop me.

That's basically it. As usual, thank you all for your understanding. I'll always do my best to bring you the best I can make, and thank you for reading my comic 💖

[upmost-rylan]

what type of demon that 'cross' they are actually?

// Cross (he/it) with family ! Key (he/him) , l o r e (/j) , Rylan answers

.

I’d like to think he is a mix of an imp and something else we’ll never know, he isn’t really based on any specific demon type i just think demon + colorful and then we got cross! .

Bonus rambling and bonus sketch at the end

bringing this question up reminded me of an old oc I had when fnf first came out. his name was and is Key he is a humanoid entity that can play the piano! I decided to make him into cross’ dad as he was my first fnf oc

I decided to give him a tiny bit of a redesign just to make him look in his 40-50s

He always had hands that he can summon whenever he wants helping him play the piano faster and more interestingly

This was how he looked like when I first made him in 2021 (dear god I improved abit ) when I got the idea of what if a character doesn’t sing but instead played their instrument really intensely

….

however we have a couple song ideas now for current him so! There’s a oc x canon so

yeah!

ahem

Song ideas for if key had songs against boyfriend cuz key does have something in common with dd no like the beep boop cuz be isn’t fit to be his child’s partner cross screaming internally in the back

Daddy issues : something more so slowly but slowly getting faster as to reference key trying to stay calm while also passively aggressively insulting bf

(F)ather key : now it’s getting faster and louder now the dad’s getting pissed why does this stranger have ZERO respect (the f is in brackets cuz it the highest note you can play on most pianos also pun haha)

MetroNOme : usually key hides his arms as he already can play good without them BUT NOW THE ARMS ARE OUT short song that is VERY FAST basically somehow getting to rock bf keeping up but is just about to win key slams his hand on the keys and basically tells him to leave his house and never see cross again

In between (there’s a pause in the music) there’s a story moment where cross his holding himself cuz fuck that’s upsetting and key looks at his now upset son and before sitting back down in his piano rubbing his forehead head taking a sigh and saying “I’m sorry I may have taken it too far. But… sigh okay fine i can see you really care about my son. Even though you are brash and egotistical. You put that aside to be with cross. Fine… you can date him”

Blues: just a slower song but definitely more upbeat there’s abit of sadness in key’s notes but he is definitely happy to see his son happy