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mimento-more · 6 months

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I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference.

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction.

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does.

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne.

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name.

His real name.

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet—

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance.

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.”

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity”

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.”

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom.

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe.

He lashes out at her.

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all.

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness.

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–”

Because that is what he’d taught her.

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished.

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?”

Her head cocks. She does not understand.

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question.

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something.

From him.

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest.

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest.

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her.

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you."

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night."

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair."

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent.

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued.

He can’t.

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death.

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow.

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded.

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight.

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct.

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?"

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love.

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried.

“Darling?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her?

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall.

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes.

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed.

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic.

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that.

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely.

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time.

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

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mimento-more · 7 months

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Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

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mimento-more · 7 months

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Masterlist

hey friends! my collection of writings lives here. under the cut you’ll find an eddie munson vampire au one shot, an eddie munson x ofc fic (multi parts and chapters and she’s a total bad ass, you’ll love her), and a fic revolving around lore from the band ghost! if you take the time to read any of my work, you’re amazing and i’m grateful that you’re here. enjoy!

and don’t be afraid to message me i’m just shy

Continua a leggere

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mimento-more · 7 months

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Full Ghost Concerts - Free.

For everyone who wants to see them live in concert, but cannot for whatever your reasons may be - here is a masterlist of various full concerts of theirs I have found on YouTube (Free, of course.)

Enjoy!

Ghost live 2022 in 4K FULL CONCERT with HD sound.

Ghost - Re-Imperatour France 2023 (Full show).

Ghost Live in Sydney 2023 Multi-cam (Full Concert).

Ghost - Full Show Houston 2023 Live.

Ghost Live Rock In Rio 2013.

4K - Ghost - Live at the Fillmore - Jackie Gleason Theater - Miami Beach, FL 11/24/2018.

Ghost - Full Show!!! - Live HD (Giant Center 2019).

Ghost - Rats! On the road 2018 - Full Show (Multicam + HD).

Ghost - Full Show!!! - Live HD (St. Joseph's Health Amphitheater 2023).

Ghost Hellfest 2016 Full Preformance.

Ghost Live Full Concert with HD sound in Anaheim CA March 3 2022.

Ghost live at Afas Amsterdam 5-02-2019 - Full Show.

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mimento-more · 7 months

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lokius nation how are we doin

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mimento-more · 7 months

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THOR (2011) / LOKI 2x06 (2023)

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mimento-more · 7 months

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“Spellbinding” Masterlist

Summary: A chance encounter at the New York Public Library marked the beginning of (Y/N) and Loki’s friendship, but they would soon learn that they shared more in common than their love of literature.

An AU Fic set after the events of Thor: The Dark World, where Loki is serving out his sentence as one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

~Book I~ Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Eight Chapter Nine (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Twelve (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Twenty-Two (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part 1) (Part 2) Chapter Twenty-Eight

~Interludes~ Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress’ Spellbinding World Tour (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude) A Spellbinding Wedding (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

~Book II: TBA~

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie99 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @a-laufeyson @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @mostclevermiss

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mimento-more · 9 months

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Get Up Goddamn You!

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I still have not played the game yet nor watched any playthroughs (I need to watch Neil's but I just haven't gotten around to it yet) so idk how accurate some of this is, I just sort of went for it so yeah

Based on this post by @jamesdeniscouldnever

Warnings: death. blood, heavy angst, swearing, bittersweet ending

Word Count: 1,139

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AO3

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A shock of ice stabbed through your chest and you stilled. Stopped frozen in your tracks. And then it was gone. Torn from your body.

It hurt to breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You gasped and your mouth filled with liquid. You were drowning. But no matter how much your brain screamed, you couldn’t fight it. Your lungs filled up until your ribs ached. It’s okay. That soon faded.

Maybe you were under water after all. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe it was river water you choked on. Maybe you couldn’t hear because everything was muffled underwater. Maybe… maybe…

Everything felt so heavy. A jolt shocked your system as you fell to your knees, but it faded with everything else. You thought you heard a scream. A voice, pressing just there at the edge of… the edge of something. Who was that? Why were they screaming?

Your vision spun and jostled and twisted and turned until you were staring up at the sky. A face, haloed by fluffy clouds. His hair almost blended with them as they floated by.

You tried so hard to focus… If you could just know what he was saying. His lips moved so frantically. Too fast. Too…

He looked so scared. So afraid. You wanted to hold him, tell him everything was okay, but your arms remained leaden at your side. No matter how much you fought, they wouldn’t budge. Or, you couldn’t feel them moving, anyway. You tried to tell him instead. It hurt to see him so distraught - if you could just comfort him-

The words got trapped in your throat. You needed to cough. There was too much water in your mouth, in your lungs, in your everything. You needed to breathe. His hand brushed your hair back. It felt so nice. So so nice… So……

You try to remember this man. He’s so beautiful. Was he a god? He had to be. And what were you? Just……

You can’t keep looking. You fight to keep your eyes open, to keep looking at his white hair and red eyes and beautiful, beautiful face. But you’re so tired. And you’re so weak. And a nap sounds so good. And when you wake up, you can find him again, and look at his face, and tell him it’s okay. You just needed a nap. Just a quick nap.

He jostles your body as your eyes slip shut. You can feel the liquid trailing down your neck and down the collar of your shirt, but the darkness calls to you so sweetly. Cold and warm and sad and happy and so, so easy. You fall into her arms without a second thought, as they fade with your life.

Astarion stares at the corpse in his arms. Your corpse. Drenched in blood, most of it your own. A gaping hole in your chest and blood pouring from your mouth. He’s disgusted by how sweet it smells.

His hands are covered in your blood as he cups your face, rubbing a thumb under your eye and begging for you to open them again. Please, just this one favor for him and he’d never ask for anything else. Just please open your fucking eyes. He doesn’t hear the words spilling from his lips, begging over and over and whispering your name like a spell. All he succeeds in doing is smearing blood over your skin.

They have magic - back at the camp. If they just carry you back, lay you down, you could be brought back. The hole would be sewn up, you wouldn’t have blood pouring down your chin like a vampire who gorged himself to an ecstatic death. It would be okay, it had to be. You had to be okay.

He’s inconsolable as he carries you. Your head is limp against his shoulder. Your arm hangs down and sways with each step. There’s blood all over him and all he can smell is you, you, you. The iron lingers in the air and hits his tongue and he wants to be sick. He keeps a brutal pace, everyone struggling to keep up behind him. Your cheek is cold against his skin and he wants to scream. Never in all these weeks knowing you have you ever been colder than him. And with each step, the warmth evaporates from you and the chill sets in.

He lays you down reverently in your bedroll. You cannot feel how gently he treats your body as he tucks your arms by your sides and brushes your hair from your face. And then in the blink of an eye he’s tearing the camp apart.

He digs through every bag he can find, every chest and pocket. He searches for just one fucking scroll. If he could just bring you back, then it would be okay again. He could stop feeling so fucking awful. And you’d be there! Warm and breathing and- and…

And he finds nothing. Withers is missing - wandered off or who fucking knows. Wyll goes to find him and Astarion can’t keep pacing around or he’s going to collapse. So he sits by your side. He can’t breathe. His chest is constricted. His eyes have burned for the last hour and it’s only now he realizes he’s been crying. Your blood dries and cracks on his hands. It’s already beginning to turn brown. He hesitates at first, but then he grabs your hand and pulls it into his lap and gods why did he have to feel so awful.

He doesn’t leave your side. He can’t. You’re already dead, but he fears that somehow you’ll disappear if he looks away for even a moment. If he so much as thinks about slipping between the trees for a bite, he’s consumed with fear and guilt and anger.

So he stays. Your hands get so cold before the sun’s even fully below the horizon. He can’t stop himself from holding them between his own and blowing the warmest breath he can manage, massaging the brief heat into your fingertips. It never lasts. Even the fire does not seem to touch you.

When Wyll finally drags Withers back, the sun is rising, and Astarion is too exhausted to shout. All he can manage is a glare as he tosses a bag of coin at his feet.

And when you at last open your eyes to the bright rays of morning, you’re pulled into his chest. You shiver and weakly wrap your arms around him. He can feel the heat slowly returning to your body. You try to pull away to ask what happened - it’s all a blur - but he holds you tighter. He presses his face into your neck and just breathes you in. You barely manage to whisper that it’s okay, that you’re okay, and he sobs.

---

Tag List:

@cool-ontherun-world

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@hypopxia

@flsalazar

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@angelofthorr

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@marina-and-the-memes

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mimento-more · 9 months

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Hi, I absolutely ADORE your writing and I’m also on an Astarion trip rn (but aren’t we all?!). Could you do Astarion x fem!reader where she gets quite badly injured, maybe with an enchanted weapon of sorts. She’s pretty much on death’s doorstep; she’s fevered, she can’t even string a sentence together, and they barely manage to heal her. Astarion’s been battling with his feelings for her for a while, but this happens and he’s secretly a wreck. It physically forces him to face the possibility that they could lose one another at any moment and he should probably get on telling her. Bonus points (and a gold star + gentle forehead kiss) if she’s asking for him repeatedly while she’s out of it. Thank youu <3

characters not realizing they’re Really In It, Now until the object of their affections gets hurt = serotonin central, babey

thanks so much for the request! ❤️

and a softness came (astarion x gender neutral!reader, baldur’s gate 3)

Astarion is moments away from tossing the damnable Book of Thay into the flames when he’s distracted by a commotion, a familiar voice shouting and the clomp of heavy feet across the ground.

“Someone fetch Shadowheart!!” Karlach’s voice booms as she barrels into camp, the panic in her voice urging Astarion to his feet long before he actually realizes what the source of her fear is.

You.

Astarion freezes in place as he finally takes notice of your form crumpled up within Karlach’s arms, your fingers curled feebly within her tunic and your face damp with sweat.

“What happened?” He’s at the tiefing’s side in an instant, red eyes darting from your flushed face to your unfocused gaze. You’re mumbling, low, pained words that make little sense, eyes rolling within your sockets and lips twisting in a grimace.

“Poison,” Karlach grits out, carefully lowering you to your bedroll. You cling weakly to her arms as she releases you, before your limbs fall limply to the ground and a tiny whimper spills from between your lips.

Astarion’s chest twists at the sound, a sharp, ripping pain. He reaches for your hand and curls cool fingers around your burning flesh. Your fingers spasm around his, head lolling on your bedroll, and the vampire jerks his gaze in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent. Where in the hells is that damn cleric?

He doesn’t realize he’s baring his fangs until the warmth of Karlach’s hand curves over his shoulder. Her face is worn, worry for you puckering her brow. “It’ll be alright, Astarion,” she assures him, or tries to, before your ragged breaths draw both of their attention and the moment is broken.

The scuff of Shadowheart’s heels across the ground heralds the arrival of the dark-haired cleric, her face set in stone as she kneels at your bedside.

“Poison?” she asks, her expression darkening as Karlach nods. “What was the source?”

Astarion is only half-listening, watching as your eyes roll listlessly behind their lids. He’s seen you wounded before, bloodied and grimacing as you toss back a potion after a particularly brutal fight, but he’s never seen you like this, your body trembling in pain and your breaths wheezing past slackened lips.

“As - “ He stills as those lips begin to move, your voice barely legible, eyes rolling blindly in their sockets.

“Don’t speak, darling,” he soothes you. Out of the corner of his eyes, Shadowheart’s hands begin to glow, a soft healing light overtaking her palms.

“As - tarion?” You wheeze his name in short bursts of labored breaths, tears brimming in your eyes, and Astarion’s pulse catches. You try again, voice little more than a rasp. “Astarion?”

He swallows past a growing lump in his throat and strokes your sweaty brow. “I’m here, love,” he assures you, cool fingers moving to cup your cheek. You sink into his palm with a ragged sigh. “I’m here.”

You don’t seem to have the strength to say anything more, but your breath begins to ease as Shadowheart casts her spell, soft light engulfing you for a few moments before it gradually begins to fade.

The cleric leans back, shoulders slumped but relief in her gaze. “I’ve done all I can do. Some sleep will take care of the rest.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart.” It’s Karlach who voices her appreciation for the cleric’s efforts. Astarion has yet to pull his gaze from you, and he hears the cleric sigh out a breath thick with exasperated amusement.

The girls leave him to look after you, Karlach lingering only long enough to pass a warm hand over your brow, her expression soft, before she gives him a nod and takes her leave.

The sweat dries slowly on your brow, but your breaths have evened into sleep and the tremors have eased from your body. A little rest and you’ll be fine.

Astarion repeats that line to himself while he chews fitfully on the inside of his cheek. Despite the poison having been purged from your system and your body no longer locked in agony, he cannot seem to convince his own mind that the danger has passed. He feels listless watching your slumber, and in a fit of pique he rises to go search for a rag to clean the sweat from your skin.

What in the hells is wrong with him? You’ll be just fine come morning; Shadowheart had assured him of it, and Karlach certainly wouldn’t have left your side unless she were just as certain.

Why, then, did Astarion feel like a great weight had been placed upon his chest, crushing him where he stood? He couldn’t seem to rid himself of it, not even as he returned to your side and mopped the sweat from your brow and the hollow of your throat.

You barely stir, murmuring nonsense syllables that he fears would sound entirely too much like his name if he were to lower his ear to your mouth.

You had called for him. In pain and delirium you had called for him, cried for him.

Astarion felt entirely out of his depth. He had utilized every tool in his repertoire in order to get close to you, securing his continued freedom by charming you to his side, but now - now he felt entirely off course.

You had become important to him, beyond the security you could provide, beyond even the hope of ridding them all of the tadpole. He did not wish to see you hurt.

Fuck. The realization hits him like a blade to the gut. He watches you breathe, watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, and - impossibly, annoyingly - feels his lips twitch into a smile.

Gods damn it.

Night settles quietly over the camp. Astarion works to gently remove you from your armor, and then settles down beside you on your bedroll. Despite Shadowheart’s reassurances, he doesn’t intend on leaving your side.

“Astarion?” Your voice is an exhausted murmur, your lids barely parting.

“I’m right here, pet.” He curls his arm around your waist and tucks you against his chest, even as his nose wrinkles at the scent of dried sweat on your skin. “Go back to sleep.”

You huff against his collar, fingers curling within his tunic. “‘M sorry I worried you.” Your voice is barely discernible with you pressed up against him like this, but he hears you, and coughs.

“Yes, well - “ He feels his face flush, feels the curl of your lips against his collar. Damn you. “Just try not to do it again, would you?”

You laugh, a soft thing, and nod against his collar.

It’s a promise.

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mimento-more · 9 months

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Out of Love (Astarion x reader)

Tw - death, vomiting, assisted suicide, sickness

Recommended Song: Past Hound - Adam Melchor

A couple of moons ago, you came down with a horrific illness. You and Astarion both don't know why, or how. You suspect foul play. After all, you didn't always make friends on your journeys. You wonder if perhaps you were poisoned, someone slipped something into a drink at the bar, changing the course of your life forever. The first month was like a bad flu, high fever, vomiting almost every day, barely able to eat. Over time though, your body started to ache. Astarion knew it was getting bad when you fell in the kitchen, breaking one of his favorite glasses. At first he was enraged, so angry that you could be so careless with one of his prized posessions. Then, he turned the corner and saw you lying on the floor, and quickly reverted his previous sentiments.

You don't remember exactly how long it's been. About two months in, Astarion told Shadowheart and Halsin to come over, realizing this was not going to go away on its own. They, tried, everything. Shadowheart went into a frenzy, reading up on everything she could, trying spells she had never cast before. Halsin got ahold of every other druid he knew in the city, to no avail. Everyone was clueless. The only thing they could determine is that this illness was man-made.

"So some bastard did try to finally get me, huh?"

You smile a little at your own comment, wincing at the pain it brings you. Astarion glares, not at you, but at the idea that someone would do this to you.

"Not funny my sweet."

It's now been four months. Astarion has tried his best to keep up with all the care you need, but it has turned both of your lives to shambles. Eventually he invited all your old companions over, to stay for a while, as they wanted to help with your illness. Despite the fact that he could barely stay awake at times, he would watch over you for hours on end, sometimes twenty at a time, until someone like Lae'zel dragged him out of your room to go lie down.

Gale has cooked every meal for all of you since you've gotten worse. He tries his best to make things from your childhood, things you'd find comforting. Shadowheart and Halsin continue to research your sickness, finding nothing. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel take turns with Astarion, keeping watch over you, tending to your every need. At this point, you can barely get up most days, either from pain or lack of energy. Despite this, you can't ever sleep. If you do manage to drift off, it's for thirty minutes or so, and then you're jolted awake by some pain.

One day though, you're awoken by Astarion and Halsin arguing.

"I'm telling you Astarion, there is nothing I can do. Tav is going to pass. I don't know how soon, but I would start getting things in order."

He tries to hold back tears, to be good with his bedside manner, but it's almost impossible when Astarion keeps yelling back at him, desperate.

"Tav is not going to die. It's not time yet, you have to do something!"

"Please, Astarion. I don't want to fight with you. I know this is hard to hear, but it's over. There's nothing more we can do. There is no cure."

He tenses, ready to spit some nasty sentence about how he must be some great druid if he can't even heal people, but he refrains, wiping at his eyes. He storms off to his study, as all of your friends watch it unfold.

"I knew he was going to react like that."

Gale says sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I'll go take watch, give him some time."

And with that, Karlach comes into your room. You pretend to be asleep.

After a few agonizing hours, it's evening. Karlach brought you some soup that you couldn't bring yourself to even try eating. As the sun sets, Astarion is in the doorway, a grim look in his eyes. Without saying anything, Karlach takes her leave, giving him an understanding nod that you don't see.

When your lover makes his way to the bed, he lies down next to you, locking eyes with your tired gaze. It's as if you've been beaten twelve times over, the bags under your eyes have gotten so dark.

"Hello my sweet."

He smiles softly, trying to hide the sorrow, trying to shelter you from the news Halsin gave him.

"Hello my love."

You smile back, a little bit of pain and pressure in your face at the attempt.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You snuggle into his side, trying not to move too much. He meets you halfway.

"I'm just... I'm so tired."

"I know darling... I know."

"No, Astarion. I'm tired of this."

"As am I. Shadowheart and Halsin are working steady as always, they'll find something."

You shake your head, a movement he can feel against his chest.

"No. No I... I heard."

You're exhausted, the air barely leaving your lungs.

"Heard what my dear?"

He's not good at playing dumb, the crack in his voice giving it all away. He hadn't thought about the argument, that you would've heard the two of them yelling about how you're going to die.

"What Halsin... what he told you."

And the tears well in his eyes instantly. He thought he wouldn't have to tell you, that he could keep this sacred thing going, that he could hold you without you needing to know it could all go away so quickly. You hear him sniffle, clearly trying to hold back.

"We don't know it's true Tav, they could still find something. They could be wrong."

His throat is coated in desperation, every word stabbing through your brain, trying to find something in you that believes him, even if he doesn't believe himself.

"They've been at it for months my love. I think it's over."

He grips you a little tighter, wishing for your existence, trying to hold the wind back from the embers of a long-gone flame. You both stay silent for a minute, as you try to work up the courage to ask him something. Something you're not even sure he'll say yes to, but you try.

"I want you to feed on me."

He scoffs, almost angrily.

"No my dear, not while you're sick. You need everything you can get.."

You shake a little, perhaps from the never-ending fever, or maybe from the fear, or the pain.

"No. I mean I want you to feed on me until I'm gone."

He tenses, shocked by your request.

"You... you what?"

You start to tear up, which only brings more pain.

"I'm just so tired Aster, and I've fought for so long. I want it to be over. I'm ready for it to be over, please."

You can barely make it through the end of your sentence without choking up.

"I can't do that, I- I won't!"

He sits up to look at you.

"You can't give up, not like this. There's still time, we still have time."

You reach out for his hand, and he obliges. As you squeeze you fingers into the back of his hand, you ask him one of the hardest questions he's ever had to answer.

"What, so you can watch me continue to suffer?"

He hadn't thought of it, that if this was horrific, how much worse could it get? How long was soon? Even Halsin didn't know how much time, not even an estimate, just... soon. He doubles down.

"No! So that, that maybe you can get better! That we can find the bastard that did this and make him cough up the cure. Maybe we can-"

"Astarion!"

You hadn't yelled for weeks, mustering up everything in your body to overpower his pleading voice. The tears continue to fall down his face, and he leans over, bringing your hand to his face.

"I can't Tav. I can't kill you. You're asking me to destroy the only thing I've ever loved, I-"

The thought of it makes him feel like throwing up, the thought of doing something like that to you. Forever ago he tried feasting on your blood in the middle of the night, long before you fell in love. And when you woke up to a strange man, a monster trying to steal your life force, you were kind. You let him drink from you, and every time he needed to after that.

"I love you so much, and I know you love me so much deeper than I could ever imagine, and I am asking you to do one last thing for me, out of love. I don't want to die to some unknown disease that's been ravaging my body, to pass in my sleep without so much as a thought. I want to die with you, right here, while everyone sleeps, where we can be alone one last time."

It's hard to argue with you, but Astarion feels as though ending your life is hardly an act of love. Mortal lives are already so fleeting, and yet you are asking him to cut it even shorter, to let you go. He meets your eyes again.

"Can I at least go slow?"

"As slow as you'd like."

You weakly smile, and he realizes there is no more considering your offer. This is what you want, and only he can give it to you.

"Okay."

He leans down to kiss you, slowly making his way to your throat, hesitating at first.

"I love you more than you'll ever know."

No pet names, no antics, no fluff. It's the first time you think he's ever said something so serious about how in love with you he is.

"I love you too Astarion."

And it's rare that you ever call each other by your first names. He shivers a little, saying you love 'Astarion' and not 'your sweet' or 'your love.' With your declarations out of the way, he pierces your skin with his fangs, slower than usual. Feeding from you is almost always a rabid act, desperate, feral. He's reserved, savoring every moment, knowing this is it, the last time he'll taste your blood, the last time he'll hold you in his arms, the last time you'll lie in this bed together. When the cold subsides and the numbness takes over, you're at peace for the first time in a long time. All you feel is the slow lapping of your blood, and his grasp tight around you. It feels like forever to you, but moments for him. As the flowing river becomes smaller, the tiniest drops coming out of your neck, he feels your body start to go limp, your skin start to get cold. He fulfills your request despite how much he's hurting, and he drinks until there is nothing left, until you're gone.

A wail echoes through the house, waking up your companions as they rush to see what's happened. As Shadowheart is the first to reach the doorway, she sees Astarion clutching your body, sobbing hysterically. She gets up next to him, clamoring on, asking what happened. He can barely speak, and the rest watch in silence.

"Tav- I- I had to- they wanted me to-"

Guilt-ridden, terrified of what he's done despite you pleading with him minutes ago, Astarion can only stutter the same phrases over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I- I didn't want to- please."

"Hey, it's okay. Astarion. Astarion?"

Shadowheart notices the blood all over his mouth and the sheets, and the two perfect pin pricks in your neck, realizing what he's done. Astarion looks up for a moment, still clutching your dead body in his hands. And then, he points at Halsin.

"YOU. You fool, Tav heard us, they heard what you said. They gave up because of you. I had to kill them because of you..."

He starts to sob again, losing the rage, overcome with a sorrow that is inexplainable. Halsin only stays silent, knowing these are words of grief and not truth.

"Get out."

Halsin starts to step aside, believing the comment to be about him. When no one else moves, Astarion's eyes dart across the room at everyone, almost manic.

"Get out, all of you. GET OUT."

"Astarion, you can't-"

Gale is cut off by what is such a guttural scream, he can hardly belief it came from the vampire.

"LEAVE."

He comes back to your body, sobbing into flesh that no longer feels.

"Just please leave me alone..."

Shadowheart quietly gets off the bed, ushering everyone out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Astarion can barely hear the murmurs outside the bedroom door, as he begins muttering to your lifeless corpse.

"I'm so sorry my dear... I'm so sorry. I should've done more, I should've told you to stay, I-"

He can't find the words, relentlessly blaming himself for your choice, wondering if there was any way to get around this. His mind wanders to that first month, when you dropped his wine glass, how he yelled from the other room, how he scolded you for being careless with his things, and he realizes how stupid life is. Nothing matters, a wine glass doesn't matter, you matter. And you were the only thing that ever mattered.

Hours go by, and dusk turns to dawn. Eventually, Gale comes back to the door, knocking softly.

"I'm coming in."

He's met with Astarion still, lying with your body, the blood crusted on the sheets, and his bloodshot eyes. It's as if he barely moved.

"I think... I think it's time."

While Gale wishes that Astarion could stay by your side forever, he knows your corpse will start to change soon, to become worse and worse as the hours pass by. It takes him forever to pry your lover from your side, eventually leading him to the living room, where he lies on the sofa, curled up, as Halsin begins to prepare your body.

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mimento-more · 10 months

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I really want to play a Pokémon Game on my switch but idk which one:

#pokemon #pokémon violet #pokemon shield #pokemon games #galar region #paldea region #pokémon legends arceus #pokemon go #pokémon swsh #pokémon scarlet

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mimento-more · 10 months

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hello! I saw that you do papa's match ups and I really love this idea, so if I can I would like to participate!

I'm a girl, she/her, I'm 21 yo, Italian, I have a Gothic/dark style.

I have brown and red hair rn, deep brown eyes and puffy cheeks. I'm 5,4' or 166cm. I'm a uni student.

Personality wise, I'm kinda shy at first but if I like you I can show you my best side and funny one. I am sociable but pretty reserved and sometimes people tend to see me as scary or very petty and I hate it.

in a relationship I am kinda sweet, I like giving people gifts but not receiving them, I also can't accept compliments because I don't believe in them.

at work I am very concentrated and methodical, I like to have my spaces.

thank you very much for your time!! ✨💜

This post is a part of Match-up Event. The Event ended on July 15th.

You match is Copia

You're both a bit awkward and shy at first, but that's okay because it makes the process of opening up to each other just that much more meaningful.

He understands that you being reserved doesn't mean you're upset or mean. Always makes sure to remind you that he loves you and that it's okay to not always be up for chatting and cuddles!

He tries to get you to like getting gifts, but he tries to make them smaller and make sure each one of them has a meaning instead of just being stupid things that he can throw at you every day.

If you don't like compliments, he finds different way to show you affection aside from just physical touch.

He likes leaving you little notes with silly jokes and badly drawn pictures of rats in silly hats.

If he has time, he'll even draw tiny comics of the silly rats.

He likes the way you dress and sometimes asks you for ideas for his new stage outfits.

He also finds it refreshing to talk to you in Italian! Especially when he sometimes forgets a word in English.

Respects your space and doesn't disturb you while you work unless it's an absolute emergency.

Offers to help you look for any sources or research materials you might need for university.

Very loving and supportive in general. And he does his very best to adapt to how you so his precious darling is comfortable.

Written by Jez

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mimento-more · 10 months

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All the Gods and Devils | Astarion

Summary: The Gur’s death instill anger and fear into you all.

Word Count: 2113 words with the barest of edits

Warnings: a suicide pact (non descriptive, more like you die, I die promise), NPC death, a bit too much blind love an devotion to Astarion but I mean come on… look at him

Masterlist | Archive of Our Own | Taglists | Ko-fi

Keep reading

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mimento-more · 10 months

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NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

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mimento-more · 11 months

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„passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall“ with Terzo please 🤭

Ugh, all those promts sound so good, I had a hard time deciding with one I should ask for

yesss!! here we are :) about 600 words, mdni please!

“Papa, I am very sorry but your request is — well, it’s ridiculous.” Your voice is measured and strong despite having to break the news. Terzo glares at you from behind his grand desk, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. You stand your ground, your hands clutching your clipboard. “Sister Imperator would have to approve the changes to your touring budget but I am confident she will agree with my assessment of it being too expensive and unnecessary.”

A frustrated growl rips from his throat as he abruptly stands up, eyes never leaving yours. It’s clear he’s in a mood today, which is extremely unnerving. He is a perfectionist but he is known to be more uplifting and easy-going compared to previous Papas and you had never seen him quite like this before. You want to shrink into yourself but you don’t, unwilling to show weakness to him. Terzo is still dressed in his papal robes but his mitre is gone, his raven hair messier than usual.

“Sibling — I am Papa. I should get what I want.” He hisses at you and moves with disturbing speed, suddenly right in front of you. You press your clipboard to your chest as he closes in on you, backing you into the nearby wall. Your legs feel like they’re going to give out just by the way he’s inspecting you. Terzo’s hand darts out and grabs you by the throat which forces you to finally give in, a hushed whimper pushing past your lips.

“I do get what I want.” He bares his teeth at you with a low snarl. Terzo’s grip is firm but he doesn’t squeeze and his thumb starts to drift along your jaw. “Will you get me what I want, sibling?” You part your lips, a soft sigh falling from them but before you’re able to respond he crushes his mouth against yours. Your clipboard drops from your hands and you move them to press against his chest, his body trapping you against the wall.

He flicks his tongue, licking his way into your mouth as you groan quietly. His grip on your throat tightens and you manage a soft squeak. Your brain is short circuiting with all thoughts of the tour budget gone and replaced with the shock and honor that Papa is kissing you. Terzo tilts your head back even further, his hand moving from your neck to grip your chin as the new angle deepens the kiss.

You start to wobble, your legs feeling weak and he’s quick to loop his free hand around your back to steady you. He presses his chest against yours and you move your hands to the back of his neck, fingers starting to toy with his hair. Terzo pulls away for only a moment so that the two of you can catch your breath before he leans in again, this time his pillowy lips sucking at your bottom lip. You moan for him, your nails scratching at the nape of his neck.

He releases your lip and kisses at the corner of your mouth, then lowering himself to plant another kiss just below your earlobe. It gives you goosebumps and you give another quiet moan.

“You will communicate my wishes to Imperator, si? And you will tell her that my request is necessary.” He growls into your ear and you feel it rumble up in his chest.

“Y-yes, Papa.”

“Va bene.” Terzo nips at your earlobe. “Now, there is something else that I want — will you help me, tesoro?” He settles himself between your legs and you can feel his hardness pressing into you. You whimper in response, his mouth already trailing hot kisses down your neck.

You would do anything he asked.

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