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luvtak · 1 year

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stray kids as cliche romance tropes

❀ pairing skz x gn!reader

❀ genre/tw fluff fluff fluff!! a smidgen of angst, slightly (like the slightest) suggestive, some are est. relationship, some getting together <33

❀ w/c 2248, about 200-300 for each member (do not ask me what happened with linos hehe

❀ a/n here it is!! this took me like a month to write lol so i hope its good!! personal faves are minho and innies, let me know which one is yours <333

Chan: Childhood Sweethearts

You’ve lived your life holding Chan’s hand.

You met in elementary school, immediately infatuated with the boy and his shy smile. He called you pretty on the first day of school and spent the rest of the year taking care of you: sharpening your pencils and sharing his lunch. Adults would coo and call it puppy love, laughing at the lovesick smiles adorned on your faces, but there was nothing childish about how you looked at each other.

Middle school is spent going to the movies and sharing ice cream, swimming, and sharing sweet laughs. First kisses in the fall and gumball machine promise rings given in the spring—it’s innocent in the sweetest way, forever is simple when you’re thirteen.

Teenage years give way to deeper feelings and new experiences; There was no question you were together—even if you never had the conversation, his hands locked in yours tells everyone what they need to know. High School is defined by stolen kisses on doorsteps and promposals, nights spent giggling into each other’s mouths to keep quiet. You think you know his body and soul as well as your own, like leaves plucked from the same tree.

Childhood eases into adulthood, and suddenly you’ve loved each other longer than you’ve been alive. There’s no question of a future together, no pressure to ask what you are or what you will be. Sometimes you wonder if you missed out on something, if it would’ve been better to have loved more, but when you see him there is no question. It’s easy together, a quiet breeze encasing you in his affections, and you’ll continue like you always have, hand in hand.

Minho: Second Chance Romance

When you saw him again, you didn’t realize it would hurt so bad. He’s gorgeous, somehow even prettier than he was a year ago. You think the grocery store is an interesting place to have this interaction—an unusual intruder to your midnight snack run, haloed by ice cream.

It’s strange, looking at him like you’ve never met, as if he hasn’t seen the inner workings of your mind or mapped your skin with his hands.

You can’t deny you’ve missed him, still grieving the relationship you thought you’d be in forever. You broke up because you didn’t feel appreciated, you were always unsure about how he felt, and he was always too busy and too cocksure to change that. So, you were certain he’d ignore you and you’d both go on with your lives, but when he sees you, he smiles.

It’s such a contradictory thing, to feel at ease at his figure, but anxious to hear his voice. You know how he’ll sound, so soft and charming, the perfect mix of arrogance and kindness.

When he finally stands in front you, there is so much the same as the last time you saw him, yet distinct differences in how he looks at you. A year ago, his eyes were filled with tears and now they’re so bright it’s blinding. He tells you it’s good to see you, that it’s been too long; he doesn’t want to bother you, but he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see you and he needs you to know that he’s missed you.

When he asks to walk you home, you surprise both of you by saying yes. Sharing stories of the year spent apart and lamenting over lost days together. He wonders if you’ll want to do this again, if you’re up to trying another time equipped with more love and more patience. And how can you say no, when he came back to you like an angel in the frozen food aisle.

Changbin: Damsel in Distress

When you fell, you wanted to die. There you were in the middle of the gym running on the treadmill when you lost your footing and fell directly on your face. It was not your proudest moment, and you were dead set on never setting foot in this gym ever again, maybe not even leaving your house you were that embarrassed. Until you hear someone asking if you were okay, and suddenly he’s fussing around you and lifting you up.

Changbin has seen you here before, watching you work on the equipment, and fantasizing about coming up and introducing himself, but he’s never gained enough courage. It was in the middle of one of these daydreams when you tripped, and immediately he was filled with worry. Rushing over, he checked your hands and pulled up your leggings to see if your knees were scraped and introduced himself while putting band aids on your cuts.

He's cute and nervous, and you can’t help but be swayed by how kind he is. He sits with you while you recuperate and asks to take you to lunch to make up for the embarrassment. The whole time he introduces himself as someone wonderful, you find that he’s silly and so sweet. When he admits to have been crushing on you, you laugh and wonder why he never came up to you before. And as the day comes to an end, you come to be a little grateful for the fall.

Hyunjin: Fake Relationship/Wedding Date

Hyunjin has been your friend for a long time, and your family has always wanted you to be together—it’s been years of awkward questions and dinner invites. When your sister got engaged, she told you to bring a date, and single as can be, the only person to ask was Hyunjin.

At first, he was hesitant. He knew and loved your family, and the idea of lying to them and pretending to be your boyfriend when he is certainly not, is hard to stomach. When he finally agrees he still wonders if it’s a good idea, but seeing the bright smile on your face makes up for it.

The family is ecstatic when they see who your date is, and as the night goes on you start to see why they’re so happy—on a superficial level, you’ve always known how beautiful and wonderful he is, but seeing him here all dressed up and smiling down at you, you start to see what your family means when they say you’re perfect together. You’re dancing and talking, and he becomes so much more than just your friend.

He’s always loved you, maybe not romantically, but he has. And something turns when he’s dancing with you, maybe it’s the lights or the music, but he can feel something shift. When he takes you home that night, he wonders if it’ll still feel this way in the morning.

Jisung: Best friends to Lovers

You know everything about each other, it’s as if you’re one person—finishing each other’s sentences and sharing inside jokes. You’ve spent your lives together, yet it has been purely platonic. You’ve both had relationships and never saw each other as more than you are, until one night he looks a little too pretty under the TV light and suddenly you’re overthinking every little interaction you’ve had.

If it’s normal to be so close to someone who’s just your friend—If other people put their best friend before anything else, including significant others. Jisung loves you, that much is obvious, but you’re not sure if he sees you the way you see him; he takes up every inch of your heart, everything you do is for him.

In Han’s mind, you know how he feels—it’s so clear to him how you feel for each other, while unspoken he thinks his actions speak louder than words. He’s just been waiting for you to be ready, maybe that’s his mistake; you’ve both been waiting to make the first move.

Your friends are frustrated, waiting for you to finally see what they do. Lecturing the both of you on admitting your feelings, but neither you nor Jisung want to mess with the relationship you already have.

When you finally come to terms with how you feel, you confess to your feelings like a crime, he tells you like whispering a secret you already know. Shakey and tired of feeling so overwhelmed with how big your feelings are for him, you admit to realizing how much you truly love him. All he can do is laugh, wondering why you were both so anxious to tell each other this one secret, when you’ve shared all the others.

Felix: Vacation Romance

When your friends decided to go on vacation, you could never have dreamed of meeting someone as wonderful as Felix. You met him three days into your three-week trip, and if you thought he was lovely from afar, he’s even sweeter up close. The relationship was eager, escalating quickly over the course of your stay. Within days you felt like you’d known him forever, sure that you were somehow meant to meet.

Days are spent in the sun, soaking up love and light—watching new freckles arrive on his cheekbones as the weeks fade. His skin is always touching yours, hands in your hair and kisses pressed into your neck. He thinks he’s a little bit in love with you, even so, the threat of the end hangs over your head; you never thought this would last, in fact you knew it would be too hard to continue, but you throw yourself headfirst into it anyway.

Your first kiss is cautious and your last is hasty, a million little touches in twenty-one days leading up to a goodbye. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if it only worked because it was temporary. Your friends laugh at you, thinking you’re taking this little fling too seriously, but they’ve don’t know what it feels like to have his eyes on you.

The night before you leave, he tells you he’ll miss you, and you think that’s it—that the vacation will just become a romantic memory to look back on, but he asks if he can call you, and you think that maybe this could lead to so much more.

Seungmin: Opposites Attract

There was no question, you two were very different people—while you were bubbly and bright, Seungmin was often blunt and withdrawn. Sure, he can be silly, and you don’t think you’ve met anyone funnier than he is, but often he can be cold. When you first got together all your friends wondered how it would work, if someone as sunshiny as you could really feel fulfilled by someone like him.

What they don’t see is how effortlessly sweet he is to you, taking care of your heart like it’s his own. It was difficult in the beginning, to accept both sides of him—the outside version who would barely hold your hand and the inside one, thoughtlessly grazing your skin. He has so much admiration and respect for your open nature; sometimes he wants to be more like you, but he doesn’t think you’d love him so much if it weren’t for your differences.

You balance each other in the best ways, speaking up for him when his social battery gives way; laughing away his jokes when they could come off too hard. On the other side, Seungmin allows you a respite from the constant smiles—it can get exhausting keeping a positive attitude, but he loves you in your quiet moments as well as your loud ones.

He’s loved you for all your differences, appreciated you more for them—even if no one understood it didn’t matter because when it’s just you two alone together, there’s nothing different about you.

Jeongin: Boy Next Door

You can count your life in moments spent walking home with Jeongin—he smiles down at you, and asks about your day, and shares his snacks. Summers spent in each other’s backyards, learning to swim and ride bikes; telling scary stories and recitations of silly dreams. As you get older, he only becomes kinder and more handsome, offering to drive you places and invites you out with his friends. It’s only natural to have a crush on him, to feel stubborn butterflies when his dimples are directed at you, but as childhood drifts away and the infatuation becomes more intense, you’re certain you’re in love with him.

When you left for college, you didn’t think your heart would tear into pieces, but all year you missed him. You missed the sidewalk conversations and the sweet grin before he’d offer something to share—you missed sitting in his car, sat so close to him you can smell his cologne mixed with the leather seats, but mostly you just missed his body next to yours.

No boy at school amounted to him, none of them made you feel as giddy and charmed, none of them were able to mask the need you felt for him. You wondered if he thought that way about you, so sure that he was sitting miles and miles away from you, yearning for your company.

When you arrived home for the summer, it was almost like he was waiting for you. Perched on his porch swing and looking out on an empty suburban street. His hair had grown longer, and he seemed freer somehow, but he was still Jeongin—still the boy who’d walk with you and trigger your hundred-watt smile. And when you finally took your first steps outside and waved him over, he was still just the boy next door, smiling down at you.

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stiffyck · 8 months

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you should be grateful you're getting 1k+ notes/likes whatever on art, there is so many good artist on this site who aren't lucky enough to get more than 100. Also take into account that the fandom isn't as big on here as it is on Twitter. Reblogs are cool yeah, but complaining about having less reblogs than likes is kinda scummy. Esp when thousands of people are seeing your work to begin with.

How about people reblog the fucking art that gets less notes then too huh. I'm so fucking tired. Fuck off.

Even if I reblog art that doesn't have enough notes it still won't get much more. I have over 6k followers and even then that 20 notes art I reblogged can't get past 200 notes. I'm fucking mad for all the artist and fanfic writers out there. People just don't want to reblog "bad" or "irrelevant" art.

I'm putting the "bad" in quotes because no art is bad art. Someone spent their time on it and it deserves attention.

Also sue me for wanting attention for something I've spent hours on. Go fuck yourself.

Idc if I'm rude or a bitch here I just don't care.

Also. The fandom isn't big enough? If you can pull off 1k notes on a post in under one day I think it's not the issue of the fandom being "big enough" it's the issue of people NOT REBLOGGING ART.

that post where I showed the notes on my text post vs on my art wasn't to show "Look how little notes this art got :(" it was to show the FUCKING LIKES TO REBLOGS RATIO.

The STUPID TEXT POST HAD MORE REBLOGS THAN THE ART EVEN THO THE ART HAD MORE NOTES! SO YES! ITS AN ISSUE OF PEOPLE NOT FUCKING REBLOGGING ART!

Good fucking night. Go back to Twitter if you have so much issues reblogging shit.

#asks #im so done with people i swear to god

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cooking-with-hailstones · 5 months

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View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Bisan Owda (@wizard_bisan1)

instagram

In case you were wondering: are the campus protests even important? Do they matter? Are they making a difference?

Yes, yes. They are making a difference.

Video description: Bisan, a young Palestinian woman, is speaking directly to the camera. She is wearing a black shirt and a keffiyeh.

Video transcript (I did my best but missed a few words)

I’m 25 years old. I’ve lived my whole life in Gaza Strip. I’ve never felt hope like now. Never. I mean it’s magical feelings running in my veins right now. In my head, I’m in Gaza city, in the north of Gaza Strip rebuilding my city after this genocide has ended. Even started to dream that my friends from Yafa, Haifa (unsure), majdal, are returning to their cities after being displaced for 75 years. These young heroes in universities at America and around the world are stronger than the last occupation in history. And for the first time in our lives as Palestinians, we hear a voice louder than their voices and the sound of their bombs and even stronger than their control in all aspects of our lives.

In the 70s, the occupation, Prime Minister said, after decades of killing Palestinians, stealing the lands, establishing the state of Israel over the lands that “the adults will die, and children will definitely forget.”

Wait. Is that the greatest (unsure) in history? Because it’s children and youth who are leading the movement for a free Palestine. everything they have on the line to demand justice and end of the genocide, and a new era of the world, not based on oppression, exploitation or colonialism.

Do you know what the best part is? demonstrations and calls for boycott in the academic institutions are not limited to a certain people from certain religion, culture, color, religion, race, or maybe economic level. We are all different so we can no longer be accused of anti-Semitism, serving some agendas from outside, we are just different people calling for the same thing. People to people and people to justice.

200 days I’ve spent escaping death every single minute were not in vain. And those 40,000 innocent souls were killed during these days were not also in vain. And this is the first time to feel and tell you this.

Keep going because you are our only hope and we promise we will hold our ground and tell you the truth always. And please, don’t let their violence scare you. In Arabic, we say (Arabic phrase). In English, that means “they don’t have other options, but trying to terrify and silence you” because you are demolishing decades of brainwashing. You are making the change. The real change. Their violence means that we’ve begun to affect them deeply. Believe me, we are in the bottom of this bottle and we’re very very close to the end of this genocide. Maybe even closer than anytime before. Thank you. Thank you for each one of you, because you made us, me and my people feel that we are free. We are heard. We’re going back to our homes, and land.

(Through tears) I have spent the whole night thinking about every video I see, you shouting for Palestine, you protesting for Palestine, you are dancing, singing for Palestine I feel it here in my head that I am going back. And I am free, and one day, we will celebrate it in, in Gaza together. Keep going and we will too. Salaam.

(if anyone can help with my transcript, it would be much appreciated!)

#Palestine #free palestine #wizard bisan #bisan owda #Gaza #columbia university #columbia protest #campus protests #yale university #emory university #video #described video #Instagram

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itsohh · 1 year

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200 Metres

A/N: G/N reader,

Summary: Price takes you out to practice your marksmanship but has a different agenda prepared while the pair of you are alone.

Word count: 923

Warnings: angst if you squint (not really)

AO3 Masterlist

Out at the range, he sat next to you. A small white gazebo protected the pair of you from the sun as you both looked out over the fields of dirt. "It's important you knock off some of that rust. Could mean the difference between life and death." His voice was calm but stern, there was no possibility of talking your way out of the situation.

It was a little strange for him to be mentoring you so in moments like this. You were so used to him seeing and hearing him do it with Gaz or on the odd occasion Soap. To be his mentee though, was a different feeling. "Let's try something relatively close, 200 metres." You leaned down on the dirt mound, plastic protecting your body as you set yourself up.

"Good, your posture is correct, perhaps a little stiff." In the corner of your eye, you saw him move around until he was behind you. "Put down the rifle." You didn't question his command and did as he said. Slowly his hands started to massage your shoulders and your face fell forward. "You don't need to be tense under me, love." His voice was a bit hushed even though no one was around. He only spoke like that when he was speaking to you as a partner rather than a Captain.

"We are here to practise. I'd rather you made mistakes here so you can learn from them. You don't need to impress me or do well." His thumbs kneaded into you, pushing into all those tight spots on your back.

A small moan escaped your lips as he really got in there. "Perhaps it's been a while since I did this. Your pretty tense."

"Uh-huh." He chuckled at your half-assed response.

"Sorry, I'll try to make more time for the pair of us."

"Your fine John. You already take such good care of me- oh right there- there's always a lot on your plate."

"Not as much as you think. Admittedly more than I like though, shame I have to make excuses to spend time with my own partner though.” You turned your head to the side for a moment.

“Huh?”

“We both know that you’re a fine marksman.”

“You said-”

“You rusty is better than a million Privates on their best day. Perhaps excuse isn’t the right word. Let's say I’m making the best of an opportunity.”

“John, did you really drag us out here just to spend time with me?”

“It’s no five-star hotel, what can I say?” He leaned forwards and his voice became a little lower. “I missed you.” You placed your fingers over his hand on your shoulder and rubbed your thumb over them.

“John.” You smiled our his name but there was something that had been eating away at him. Something John had a problem with.

“How many nights have I let you sleep alone?-”

“Our work comes first-”

“Don’t say that.” He practically growled and you rolled onto your back with a frown. Now that you faced him, you noticed his legs were mounted above you, hovering. Slowly, you took off his sunglasses and placed them on top of his hat.

“Why not? It’s true. John our work is life and death, I’m not going to whine bitch and moan about it. Unless your actively working yourself to bone…” Your voice trailed off and you let out a huff. “This isn’t a romance novel, I’m not dumb. I can’t and I won’t ever ask you to put me before work. I knew this when we married that work comes first. Always.”

“No, it doesn’t. Work is work. I married you, not my work. The last three months we have barely spent any time together.”

“Yes we have-”

“As your Captian I have. When was the last time we spent some time together without the weight of the world on us?” You immediately went to speak, opening your mouth but closed it and broke eye contact when you started to think about it.

"So why come out all this way if you just wanted to hang out?"

"Still on the clock. Can't be pulled away for work if I'm already working." His lips curled up into a smile. "Besides it doesn't hurt for you to get some supervised practice in."

"Mmm, I have something that you could practise." He cocked a brow at your playful tone. Your fingertips danced over his bearded face. Slowly moving until your hands locked together behind his neck. With a gentle pull, you pulled him towards you until his lips met yours.

The faintest taste of coffee mixed with the natural taste of his lips was a breath of fresh air to you. You couldn't help but giggle into the kiss as he lowered his body against you, careful not to put his entire weight on you.

"What's so funny?" He barely separated from you. You could feel his lips move as he spoke, eyes hooded as did so.

"Nothing, you could have just said you wanted to go slack off with me from the beginning."

"I wouldn't call it slacking off."

"Uh-huh."

"We are still going to work on your marksmanship." You pulled him down again preventing him from speaking. He melted into your touch once more but managed to utter one more word in between breaths. "Later."

#john price x reader #price x reader #mw2 x reader #john price #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #call of duty

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howtofightwrite · 1 year

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How big would an army of conscripts, armed with Dragunov pattern marksman rifles and iron sights, with between 1 and 3 magazines each, a radio headset that allows them to take orders on a platoon level (50 troops to be specific), and a single platoon artilleryman armed with an RPG-7 with 5 rockets, with assistance from a Mitsubishi Type 89 IFV (35mm autocannon, 7,62mm M240 pattern coaxial machine gun, tracked) and an aerial command/reconnaisance/attack/close air support aircraft, need to be to deal with an army of 1000 heavy pikemen, 50 elite knights, 200 heavy cavalry, 100 light cavalry and 200 longbowmen? The pikemen are armed with a pike and wear breastplates, pauldrons, gauntlets, a helm and chainmail. The heavy cavalry are armed with a heavy lance, a sword, cuirass and helm. Longbowmen use English yew bows and wear gambesons and a chainmail on the head. Light cavalry are armed with a spear, a short bow, and a small sword. The elite knights are armed with a heavy lance and a sword, and armoured in a full body suit of plate and horse barding, and they will move with the heavy cavalry.

Okay, so, for the record, you're not really supposed to use an SVD's iron sights. (SVD is short for “Dragunov Sniper Rifle,” so, these are formally called, “sniper rifles,” rather than just DMRs.) They were (supposed to be) issued with PSO-1 scopes. This can be a little amusing, because once you know what a PSO-1's range finder looks like, it's absolutely unmistakable, and you will see films and TV shows use them on other scopes. I bring this up, because the SVD has an effective range over 600 meters. (Specifications say it's good to almost 1.3km, but, that's very hopeful.)

However, with optics, those SVDs are going to massive out range any archer.

Your infantry have somewhere between 1k-3k packed rounds. So, if they were the only participants, they would need to be a little careful about ammo conservation. But, when you start factoring in the IFV, it doesn't matter.

This scenario isn't extraordinarily different from early battles in WWI. Where cavalry and infantry charged entrenched heavy machine gun fire, and were annihilated.

This is also a moment when the whole, “elite knight,” bit really doesn't matter. You have a minor noble, who spent almost their entire life training to be a better melee combatant. You put them in the best armor you've ever seen. And, then a bullet fired from a mass-produced sniper rifle, designed to be easily fabricated by anyone with a basic machine shop, and simple enough to be maintained by a barely literate conscript will drop them in less time than it takes to read this paragraph, before the knight even knows that someone is aiming at them.

I will say, this is a little bit of a weird combination, the Type 89 IFV, is a Japanese vehicle. The JSDF (to the best of my knowledge) has never used SVDs. These days, I think their DMR is the H&K 417. Until a few years ago, their primary infantry rifle was the Howa Type 89, which is basically a redesigned AR-18. Prior to that, they used the Howa Type 64, which was a 7.62mm battle rifle. (As far as I know, the Type 64 was domestically designed.)

The Russian/Soviet equivalent to the Type 89 IFV would be the BTR-80. As with the SVD, because it's a Romanized translation, BTR stands for, “armored carrier.” Somewhat obviously, these don't work particularly well if they're not maintained, or if the motor pool Sargent is stripping them for spare parts and siphoning gas to sell on the black market, because the government hasn't paid any of you in six months, but it's still going to have a fairly similar effect on those elite knights from the 11thcentury.

The 50 SVD rifles is weird. Full stop. It's a specialist weapon, not a general infantry weapon. In a situation like that, you'd expect to see conscripts armed with AKMs or AK74s, maybe a few SVDs and RPKs.

Now, if you were looking at a contemporary NATO unit from the 60s or 70s, then, yes, you would likely see battle rifles like the M14, FN FAL, or H&K G3. And, when you're describing using an SVD's iron sights, that's more how you have used one of those cold war era battle rifles. Also, while those rifles do have automatic settings, they're intended for semi-automatic fire.

If you're wondering why I'm not even addressing things like the areal support or the RPG, it's because they really don't matter that much. Areal reconnaissance means never having to wonder where the enemy forces are, but basically anything on this list except the RPG, could probably deal with all of the enemy forces on their own. Stacking them together would be absolutely devastating.

I'm not 100% sure, but I think you could use pretty much any modern IFV as a one-size-fits-all siege breaker if they're dealing with medieval forces.

When you're looking at modern military forces time traveling into the past, the biggest logistical issue is long term depletion of supplies. There isn't really a question of, “who's going to win? A guy with a rifle that's effective at a range of over a 1km, or 10 guys with pointy sticks. The issue is what happens in six months, or a year, when there's only three or four rounds left for that rifle on the planet, and, there won't be any more for another six hundred years.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write

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mermaidsirennikita · 8 months

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Do ypu think Disney should go back to include romance in their cartoon movies? I honestly didn't realise how much I missed a good romance until I watched Elemental

Yes, but I don't see them doing it anytime soon. By toning down romance they can:

--pretend to be progressive with strawman feminism (sisters doing it for themselves don't need romance)

--avoid the question of "why isn't anyone gay?" (nobody is falling in love)

--appeal to as many people as possible by going "welllll, girls care about more than romance riiight and boys don't care about romance at allll" (neither of these things are true) and pumping out projects that are blandly un-specific enough to appeal to EVERYONE, because everything these days has to appeal to EVERYONE, there is no such thing as niche content anymore for Disney

And the thing is that this isn't really working for them as of late? Wish has been out about two months now. It's made the majority of the money it will make, theatrically speaking. Its budget was $175-$200 mill. Mostly likely, what they actually spent in total was around twice that, if conventional wisdom holds. It's made $225 million, which is a tiny bit less than the total theatrical gross of Lightheart, a $200 million (official) budget movie. That movie is widely considered a bomb--so I'm thinking Wish was a bomb too.... with what actually appears to be a significantly worse critical reception.

But I don't think Disney is used to struggling, tbh. They absolutely have--I mean, they almost folded in the 80s, right? I've seen Waking Sleeping Beauty!!!

While there have certainly been pressure points and in-fighting and battles and bombs, I don't think Disney has reeeeeally had to sweat since the Disney Renaissance began. Not the way it did in those hard time pre-Renaissance. I don't think they're used to their industry sensibilities being off to the degree that they may be heading now. Because I feel like some recent missteps like Wish and Lightyear (not to mention the general struggles at Pixar--they just announced they're cutting 20% of their wokforce, and at one point they seemed creatively untouchable) and the Marvel cachet slumping... All is not well over there.

I just don't know that they're aware that mass appeal, without dipping into niches like romance, won't be the life saver they think it is.

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clxckwork-sun-n-moon · 4 months

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dumps a couple stars in your inbox ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ want director's commentary!

gimme so cries the wolf - and i do actually have a part specifically, namely the lil talk between eclipse and monty that ranger ends up eavesdropping on, oh and actually also also eclipse's thought process encountering the other demonic animatronics - he brought the broken animatronics in, safe, n seemed quiet about it iirc. but also yeah any bits u wanna talk about too i want lore gimme

(and, technically cheating bc theres no fic for old forest gods but. spare old gods crumb? something about the lore you're really excited about? honestly curious about how/ if/ when the bet reveal happens, can imagine y/n feeling rather betrayed, hurt, whole lotta drama, or alternatively thats what sun and moon (and eclipse? since he comes in later) expect but y/n just does their damnedest not to wheeze laugh bc of all the people to woo in that town they picked the aro one. great job guys everyone hit the showers. but here too anything ill take everything gimme pleaaaseeee)

ok so I'm gonna split this ask into two because hooooooo there's gonna be BIG responses here, so this post is gonna be for SCtW and I'm gonna make another for Old Forest Gods AU

god the lil talk between Eclipse and Montague, when Eclipse opens up more about his struggle between wanting to stay vs. their original intent to leave once separated from Sun and Moon. I spent like 2 months working on that conversation. it was like I was physically fighting Eclipse's emotional repression. one of the biggest challenges I've really experienced with Eclipse is that they develop like. lightning fast, in terms of personality.

the reader has to remember that when he and Monty are having this conversation, Eclipse has only been ALIVE for what. 2 weeks? maybe 3? his WHOLE EXISTENCE has been the barest fraction of a regular human. mix that in with the fact that he has scattered memories from Sun and Moon, and demonic instincts, and yeah. sometimes I've needed to take steps back and observe this myself. is this too fast? is this too slow? one of Eclipse's biggest struggles is he literally doesn't have words to express a lot of their emotions, because he hasn't learned them yet, which was an important part of the conversation that was overheard. he physically has to pick through describing these feelings, hoping that Montague can give a better explanation (because the 200 year old grimm can provide more insight apparently)

but yeah. at the end of the day, Eclipse is limited in experience and understanding. it makes him narrow-sighted unfortunately, and struggling with trying to talk about emotions with Montague vs spending so much time taking all those emotions and cramming them in a tiny jar when interacting with ranger!Y/N? not a healthy combination. certainly not a useful one for a writer who is desperately trying to figure out how their characters are supposed to be interacting on the page

the broken animatronics too, ogh. as far as everyone thinks, all the other animatronics have been in the same boat as Sun/Moon - there was a soul in there, it mixed with a demonic presence, and then instead of getting free like Eclipse, they got stuck in the animatronic and turned feral. Eclipse mourns that, in a way. he brings the animatronics remains in as a small act of respect. he believes these meant something or someone like him existed, if only for a few seconds.

for some more lore:

yes as you may have noticed there, Montague is well over 200 years old. the church he originally protected was de-consecrated and demolished about 50 years ago due to severe weather damage, and rebuilt over the graveyard. with shifting cultures, Montague was called a hellhound and barghest in his various sightings, resulting in his temperance shifting accordingly (great power in names)

in chapter 1 I put a direct quote from Castlevania because it was very funny and doubled as the first hint that Eclipse had memories from Sun and Moon's time in the daycare

ranger!Y/N put salt around their bedroom doorframe on Montague's advice, and needs to spend half an hour 'refilling' it once every two months by scraping salt in using sandpaper

I started hinting at Eclipse's 'lightning breath' in chapter 3, making it a solid 6 chapter lead-up to it finally appearing in chapter 9. well worth it in my opinion~

(response for old forest gods AU is HERE)

#answered #friendly neighborhood mutual #so cries the wolf au #part 2 later today!

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radioactive-earthshine · 1 year

Note

Hiii!! I love your KonBart content ♥️ Any thoughts about Bart and Kon in a Stark Trek AU?

vibrates violently. i love you.

Yes. Yes I have.

So.

I haven't seen a whole lot of Star Trek AUs for them (and I get it) but how I would approach it personally is two different ways;

One is where Kon and Bart both join Starfleet and more or less have their canon backstories (Kon is a clone, he broke out etc and Bart is from 1000 in the future). The world is more or less a hybrid of modern continuity DC comics and Star Trek during TOS era.

Kon joins in engineering - his TTK is extremely helpful. People look at his arms and think he should be in security. This annoys him greatly.

Bart is in the science division, and engineering, and communications, and navigation, and medical (once). Every time he shows up he's wearing a different uniform. This is purely a gag. There's a lot of whispers about what Bart is actually primarily focused in - everyone can just look it up of course but that just defeats the fun. Starfleet allows this because of his unique abilities and eidetic memory allowing him to perform multiple stations and fill in where needed.

The other iteration take both Bart and Kon in a more Star Trek-weird direction while being faithful to DC and I am more attached to this one as it feels more like a Star Trek AU rather than a Star Trek meets DC AU (we have those in canon actually, read them!).

In this Kon is a clone, but he's a relic of Krypton and is the Last Son instead of Kal-El. A ship found him in cryostasis and dated him as being over 200 years old. Doing DNA analysis they discovered that he was in fact half human but the other half of his DNA was a mystery entirely. The writing on his capsule was eventually deciphered, but the technology housing him is completely unknown.

There are a lot of mysteries about Kon that they slowly piece together, like his name, and about Kryptonians having made contact with 20th century Earth enough to obtain DNA samples to mix with theirs. Why he exists, what his purpose was, the soul crushing truth that Krypton no longer exists and all of its people are gone, extinct, all of these are slowly answered.

He does have his TTK in this, and one of the more hilarious things is Kon did not even know that being away from a yellow sun impacted his powers that much because he used his TTK for nearly everything. He just thought he had 'space sickness' when he was away from 'a planet' too long. The connection wasn't discovered until his TTK 'went weird' due to Romulan flu and while on a planet with a yellow sun he perked up amazingly fast and was still strong. It was a whole thing.

In this I'm leaning more towards him being in communications - because it gives him the best chances of finding out more about himself. He wants to study as much about other people as possible for anything he might be able to use to answer questions about himself.

Also, he was sent to Earth when he was found and he spent a little bit of time among the officers who found him in the first place. Commanders Jonathan and Martha Kent. They give him the name Conner and essentially adopt him, and it doesn't take him long to join Starfleet Academy himself.

Bart in this true to weird-Trek lore was a space anomaly. He appeared one day on Kon's ship and people thought they were at first just seeing things. Then they thought the damned holodeck was acting up. Because people would see him very often in holodeck programs over anything else. It's how Kon and him first met - but Kon of course thought he was an NPC that was just malfunctioning. It happens! But then he started appearing in other places of the ship as a bright yellow glowing sprite.

Bart has very little memories of who he was or what he's supposed to be doing, but he has a feeling he should be 'in the real world' but everything just is going either too fast, or too slow and he just... can't... stabilize.

Eventually, Kon is able to use his TTK to 'trap him' because he is the only one FAST enough to do this. Through shenanigans involving the transporter, science and Kon they are able to stabilize him and he is no longer in that strange speedforce entity state.

Bart sort of wavers in this between being physical and a speedforce being - is much less human and more fey. In fact, even when he does give them physical samples to analyze it is unlike anything they have ever seen and nothing in the known galaxy comes close to him.

Q doesn't fuck with him.

I just think it would be funny if he showed up, saw him, and turned around while saying "Nope!"

It's one of those mysteries that frustrate Starfleet High Command.

Because Bart is in this awkward state they had a plan to take him to earth for study and asylum, and even Vulcan was interested as well, but Bart despite wanting answers about himself and what he was supposed to do wanted to stay aboard the ship because of Kon.

Captain Cassandra "Cassie" Sandsmark fights for his case and Starfleet higher command approves it - she has a way of getting what she wants.

Kon and Bart bond because Kon knows what it is like to be confused about the world and who he is, so he acts as an anchor for him and reminds him that 'it doesn't matter who you were, it's who you are now and who you want to be that's important' .... He says it for Bart but he also says it a lot for him too.

I might write a little more on this odd AU but I have like 30 other projects.

#bartkon #konbart #bart allen #kon el #kon-el #conner kent #star trek au #bartkon star trek au #anon you made my fucking day i was waiting for an opportunity to talk about this au #mine

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wtfuckevenknows · 1 year

Note

One Hundred Ways to say “I love you,” #18 for Tarlos please!

Hello friends, welcome back, I finally managed to finish the first One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ prompt and I present to you another screenshot of @noxsoulmate and my conversation about the length of this prompt.........

This one now sits at 1.6k and I don't think a single one of these will stay between 100-200 words so I'm officially giving up on that notion, we all know I'm way to fucking wordy!!!

Thanks @paperstorm for the quick *cough* beta, because as always it takes a goodamn village! ❤️😘 (writing in a language that is not your first language is fucking stupid)

You can now also read it on ao3 here.

18 “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

TK was curled up on their couch at the loft, wrapped up in his favorite blanket, watching Brooklyn 99, a show that was fun and lighthearted and reminded him a bit of home and he would never admit this to Carlos but maybe he did have a bit of a thing for cops in general, not just his husband.

Carlos absolutely judged TK for liking it and wouldn’t be caught dead watching, so TK reserved watching the show for nights he spent alone when Carlos was on shift or meeting up with some of his friends.

There was a bottle of mineral water on the table, as well as a couple of empty sushi containers.

Carlos had been out celebrating passing the detective exam with some of his colleagues, soon to be ex-colleagues, for a couple of hours when TK’s phone rang.

It was Lexi, who asked him to come pick up his drunk husband. In the background he could hear Carlos yelling something he couldn't quite make out and it made him smile.

Carlos didn't get drunk very often, only sometimes when they went out partying with the whole gang, which admittedly didn't happen as often as it used to these days. Carlos was a happy and loud drunk, letting go of some of his inhibitions when under the influence.

After promising Lexi he'd be there soon and hanging up the phone, he threw on a hoodie and a pair of comfortable sneakers and made his way to the bar by foot. Living downtown definitely had its perks and he hoped walking home in the fresh, clear night air would help Carlos sober up a bit. If he was too drunk, they could always take an uber back to the loft.

Entering the bar he could hear Carlos laughing loudly over all the other noise. With a grin on his face, he made his way to where he could see the police officers occupying a booth.

Carlos looked like he was having fun. His hair wasn't fully gelled down anymore, the curls coming out to play. There was a flush high on his cheeks and his eyes were a bit glazed over but still sparkly. He had rolled up the sleeves of his long sleeved denim shirt, the top two buttons undone, giving TK a peek of his white undershirt. He was smiling brightly, while intently listening to something one of his colleagues was saying.

Shortly before he reached them Carlos spotted him, his face going soft and he very loudly exclaimed, “TK, baby, you're here!”

TK couldn't help but chuckle, replying “Yes, Carlos, I’m here to take you home.”

Carlos looked up at him in confusion, rapidly blinking a couple of times before looking between him and his colleagues like he was watching a tennis match. Then he shrugged his shoulders, his gaze finally settling back on TK, before breaking out into a dopey grin.

“I love going home with you. I love our home and I love you. You’re the best husband!”

Lexi was openly laughing at Carlos now, gently pushing him out of the booth and into TK’s waiting arms. “Go home Reyes, be disgustingly in love with your husband behind closed doors.”

“It’s Strand-Reyes,” Carlos corrected his partner, looking every bit as offended as he sounded.

Lexi raised her arms in surrender. “Sorry.”

She didn't look very sorry to TK, but Carlos’ focus had already shifted back to him as he was now pulling TK closer to him with a hand that had somehow found its way to his ass.

Carlos whisper yelled, “I can't wait to get home and do very naughty things to you,” into TK’s ear and TK quickly steered Carlos away from his colleagues, yelling “Bye” over his shoulder as he started moving them towards the exit.

Carlos was stumbling a bit for the first couple of steps, but soon found his footing with an arm thrown across TK’s shoulders to help him balance.

Once they made it outside Carlos sucked in a deep breath, the cold night air hitting him, and he pressed himself even closer to his husband, seeking his warmth.

TK somehow managed to roll down the sleeves of Carlos' shirt, despite Carlos making it very difficult by not letting go of him during this endeavor. Carlos gave his cheek a sloppy wet kiss in thanks, making TK chuckle again, before he pulled his husband along in the direction of their home.

Carlos was making it hard to walk, clinging to TK like the affectionate drunk that he was, making TK debate calling that uber for a second before deciding they weren't in a hurry and could walk home at snail's pace.

Every couple of steps Carlos would bestow kisses upon his husband, or try to feel TK up in the middle of the sidewalk. TK didn't really mind, he had a little bit of an exhibitionist streak in him after all, he was rather amused at his husbands antics, who wouldn't normally be so bold in public.

By the time they made it into the elevator of their building, TK’s plan had worked and Carlos had sobered up a bit. Enough so that he wasn't leaning against him as heavily as before.

Once TK pressed the button to their floor, his back hit the wall of the elevator and it took his mind a second to catch up to the fact that Carlos had moved them and pressed him up against the mirror. He was also slotting a leg in between TK’s thighs, rutting against him rather urgently while capturing TK’s lips in a fiery kiss.

Apparently Carlos wasn't just affectionate but also horny tonight. Not that TK thought he could get it up right now, he hadn't sobered up that much.

He returned the kiss with just as much passion, only pulling back when the elevator dinged with their arrival.

TK pushed Carlos back, his husband letting out a needy whimper that TK tried to soothe by saying “Come on, let’s get you into the loft, the bed is much more comfortable than the elevator.” Carlos didn't need to know that he meant for sleeping and not any sexy times.

With some difficulties due to Carlos hanging off of him, TK finally managed to unlock the door and deposited Carlos on the bed, telling him to not fall asleep yet, before making his way into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water and some tylenol.

By the time TK made his way back into their bedroom, he could hear Carlos snoring softly. He had to laugh. So much for doing naughty things to me, TK thought to himself, having predicted this exact outcome.

Shaking his head while gazing fondly at his husband, he carefully removed Carlos' shoes and clothes. Once he was down to only his boxer briefs, he hauled Carlos up onto his pillow and tried to wake him up so he wouldn't have a massive hangover tomorrow but to no avail.

TK pressed a gentle kiss to Carlos' curls before tucking him in, then he got ready for bed himself, joining Carlos in bed soon after.

In the early hours of the next morning TK woke up to Carlos groaning in his sleep. This time he was able to wake him up long enough for him to swallow the tylenol and chase it with some water, before he promptly fell asleep again. Thankfully his stomach seemed to hold strong for now.

When TK woke up later to sunlight, Carlos was still fast asleep beside him. His husband was usually the first to wake, but it seemed the alcohol made him sleep in for once.

Him still feeling the effects of the alcohol would probably also mean that Carlos would wake up with one hell of a hangover, even though he finally took the tylenol earlier, so TK racked his brain to remember some of the hangover cures his friends had mentioned.

TK got up and showered, before preparing breakfast and it was nearly noon by the time he could hear a pitiful “TK” being called from their bedroom.

Carlos looked a little worse for wear but he wasn't running off to the bathroom so TK sent a silent thanks up toward the heavens for small miracles.

“Hey baby.” TK spoke softly as to not aggravate the headache Carlos probably had, entering their bedroom with a glass in his hands.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to Carlos, gently running his fingers through Carlos’ curls in a soothing motion.

“Sit up for a second, babe,” TK said and once Carlos sluggishly complied he pressed the glass into Carlos hands. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Carlos did as he was told without second thought, his paramedic husband surely knew what he was talking about. He took a big sip before spewing it back out, sputtering “Ew, TK! What the fuck is that?!”

“Pickle juice. You like pickles, you should drink up. It really helps with a hangover, I remember one of my friends from New York used to swear by this hangover cure.”

“That is disgusting. I think your friend might have been trolling you. I’m not drinking that. Get it away from me,” Carlos pleaded with TK, handing the glass back.

“Your loss. Do you want me to bring you another tylenol?” TK asked.

“Yes, please.” Carlos groaned, before letting himself fall back onto his pillow.

When TK returned he made Carlos sit up again so he could take the painkiller. He also brought a plate with buttered toast that he made him eat. Carlos complained and whined about it, but once he was horizontal again and TK had joined him back in bed he contently snuggled up to the best husband in the world.

Send me more One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ prompts please!

#One Hundred Ways to Say 'I Love You'#thanks for the prompt #why am I so woooooooooordy?!#me? writing? what a concept #tarlos fic #911 ls fic

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sovengardeswag · 1 month

Text

You Poor Unfortunate Soul

Chapter 2:

And I Help Them, Yes Indeed

When he first noticed the sun, Astarion first tried to hide in the shade out of instinct. Then, remembering his deal, merely watched. It had been 200 years since he had seen the sunrise, even longer since he had just watched a sunrise. How funny it was, that most mortals took it for granted, that he had once taken it for granted, never truly stopped to admire it before it was too late. Had never watched as the blue of the sky lightened up, as one by one, the stars disappeared out like candles being blown out, the colors of the sun going from gentle oranges and pinks to harsher yellows and reds. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. He wanted to bask in it, he wanted to take it in for the rest of his days. He stepped out from the shadow of Wyrm's Rock because even with pain, even with the agony he knew would come, he was going to enjoy the sun to the fullest.

And oh, the devil had been honest in his assessment, as Astarion was brought to his knees from the pain. He breathed deeply, as he could no longer scream, it wouldn't do anything. There was an odd sense of satisfaction in that. Though it felt like he had been set on fire, like he had been dipped in molten metal, and was being roasted all at once, neither Cazador nor Godey would ever hear his "sweet" screams again. Perhaps that was what gave him the strength to get up and return to the shade of Wyrm's Rock. It was more of a scramble than a graceful rise, but still.

Now that he was out of the sun and no longer in pain, it gave him the chance to think. He was on the clock now, he needed to find Wyll. Raphael said that Astarion had put the spawn in his path, but who knew what that really meant? He thus walked through Wyrm's Rock, through the separation between the outskirts and the lower city, where all the masses passed through. In the brief time he spent with Wyll, he knew the man wouldn't be content to wake up late to a sweet breakfast and attend to his paperwork. No, he would be out training, honing his skills with his blade. This was a man of action. A man of conviction. Convictions that Astarion would have to tear down piece by piece. But first, he would have to brave the sun again.

When he got to the end of Wyrm's Rock's tunnel, he took a breath he didn't need and stepped quickly into the light, like taking a plunge into cold water. It felt just as horrid as before but he couldn't afford to dally. He knew that the potion settling into his veins wouldn't allow him to enter homes without permission, so getting into the castle courtyard like a red-eyed angel wouldn't work. So, he was quick as he walked to the Flaming Fist outpost instead, almost collapsing in relief when he was out of the sun, taking a few moments to recover before heading to the desk, the woman there asked, "How may I help you, saer?"

Ah, there was the first hurdle. He couldn't very well just ask if Wyll was here, could he? He huffed and patted his throat before putting a finger to his lips.

"You were attacked and can't say by whom?"

He rolled his eyes before he shook his head and pointed to the parchment in front of her.

"You need to file a report?"

He shook his head once more, growing more frustrated. He put his finger to his lips before pointing to the parchment once again.

"Saer, I can't help you if you don't tell me what you want."

By the gods, did they just let anyone into the flaming fists? Had they always been this clueless?

He was mere moments away from snatching the quill out of her hand when he heard a familiar voice, "Stella, what's going on?"

"Ah, nothing to worry about, Lord Ravengard, this citizen is just confused."

Oh, he could kiss that devil! Placed in Wyll's path indeed. He turned around and Wyll's eyes widened in recognition. "It's you!" He went up to Astarion, looking him over for signs of burns. "Are you alright? What brings you here?"

Once again, Astarion patted his throat and put his finger to his lips.

"You can't speak?"

Thank the gods, the prince wasn't a fool! He nodded once more as Wyll politely took some parchment and a spare quill from the fist at the counter. He first asked Astarion, "What happened? Why can't you speak?"

Astarion quickly scratched out, "Hurts like the hells."

"I'm sorry that you got hurt in that fire. What brings you to the fists?"

"Looking for you. Wasn't sure if you were alright."

"That's very sweet of you and I assure you that I'm fine, nothing sleep and health potions couldn't fix. Did you get home alright?"

Ah, perfect, the sympathy card. He wrote on the parchment once more, "No."

Wyll's eyebrows knit in worry, "No? What happened?"

Astarion scratched out another response, "Went home, employer became angry, threw me out."

"Your employer threw you out?"

Another hastily scratched explanation came. "Worked for a patriar, rotten temper."

A flash of disgust and worry flashed across Wyll's face, "That's terrible. but then, where did you sleep last night?"

"Flop house."

"Ah, I've been there." And the man had clearly not enjoyed it, from the look on his face. He had an idea then, Astarion could see it in his good eye."Why don't you come with me to meet my father when I finish here? I know it sounds intimidating since you heard my name, but I assure you that you'd be welcome and could stay at Wyrm's Rock for a bit. I'm sure that if you're not hired back, you'll find something in no time at all."

Astarion nodded eagerly, innocently clasping his hands together.

"Perfect, just wait here while I give a statement."

Astarion nodded, sitting down at a chair away from a window and thinking of what he would do when Wyll married him. First he'd learn sign, of course, assuming a quick wedding. He would get a fine parasol and new clothes with the finest silk embroidery, only ever sewing out of boredom. Most of all, he would find a way to tell Wyll and his new father-in-law all of Cazador's sins without implicating himself, the bastard surely executed just for being a vampire. He thought of all they could do to him. Maybe he would be tossed down an unclimbable hole with a pane of glass over it and left to the sun, maybe he would be beheaded with a silver axe, maybe he would simply be staked and burned. He was only pulled out of his violent fantasies when Wyll came back."It seems that everyone said the same thing, a grease fire. Do you want to get going?"

Astarion nodded once more, hanging onto Wyll's arm. He seemed a touch surprised but didn't stop Astarion as they walked out of the outpost together. But instead of walking back towards Wyrm's Rock, they were immediately met by a fiery red tiefling. "Heyo! They get everything down?" She then looked at Astarion and said, "Oh, hi. I don't think we've met, name's Karlach, who are you?" She offered her hand eagerly and Asarion was obliged to take it, shaking. And he had to stop himself from yanking his hand away, the feeling of her hot hand deeply unpleasant on his already burning skin.

Luckily, Wyll didn't seem to notice Astarion's discomfort and pain. The spawn was very good at hiding it when necessary, after all. But Wyll did tell Karlach ever so helpfully, "This is the man I told you about this morning, the one who saved my life."

Karlach immediately pulled Astarion into a hug and the vampire wanted to scream. Most would appreciate the intense warmth on a cold day like this, but it was agony, "I can't thank you enough! I cried like a baby when the fists brought him home."

This time, Wyll did notice Astarion was uncomfortable. He told the large woman, "Karlach, I think you're heating up."

"Hm, oh, sorry there, soldier." She let go of Astatrion, who straightened up the best he could despite the burning sensation. If the hellish fire hadn't given it away, then the utter affection this woman had for Wyll told him that this was the tiefling he spared in Avernus. The one who protected those children. And it made him nervous. Wyll said he hadn't spared her out of affection but she was a lovely woman indeed. Strong with kind eyes and a lovely curled horn, she and Wyll would make an adorable couple. He had his work cut out for him.

"I actually invited him to stay with us. He fell onto some hard times and this was the least I could do."

"You sure your Pops is gonna be alright with that?"

"I'd be shocked if he wasn't." He then looked to Astarion, "But first, we have a few things to attend to. Would you like to come with Karlach and me?"

Astarion nodded, continuing to hold onto Wyll's arm for stability as much as to endear himself to Wyll.

First on the agenda was to see a blacksmith named Dammon. One who found himself tightly hugged by Karlach. "Dammon! How are you adjusting to the Gate?"

"I've been adjusting as well as you can expect. The forge is good and the rent's reasonable. How is the engine treating you up here?"

"Nothing that you didn't say would happen. Weird aches, hot flashes, but other than that I'm alright."

Astarion quirked an eyebrow at Wyll in question and the prince of the Gate explained, "Karlach has an infernal engine for a heart. In Avernus, it works just as a regular heart does, along with enhancing her strength."

Karlach nodded and further explained, "Problem is, on Faerun, it just burns hotter and hotter to make up for the colder air. Eventually, it'll just burn me up." Astarion must have made a face he didn't notice because she was quick to clarify, "Oh, I'm not going to drop dead or anything, don't worry! I just can't stay up top for more than, I think, six months, give or take." And Asarion calmed, safe in the knowledge that they would not, in fact, die in a fiery explosion then and there.

Astarion watched Dammon examine Karlach like he was a doctor, checking her engine by giving it a listen, checking her temperature by placing his hand on her forehead, examining her eyes, all while Wyll watched with rapt attention. In the end, he told her, "Well, it's as I said, your engine's holding firm. You should be fine for a few months."

"Aces, thanks Dammon!" She gave the tiefling blacksmith another hug and told Astarion, "We've just got one more thing to deal with and we can head to Wyrm's Rock."

Astarion felt some measure of relief that they were almost done, still hanging on to Wyll's arm as they walked some more, the sun bearing down on him the entire time.

When they entered a jewelry store, Astarion found himself mildly surprised. He wouldn't exactly call jewelry shopping an errand. Even when Cazador got his ugly signet cleaned, he always went himself at night rather than send a servant during the day and he usually came back with something for himself. A tiny bit of paranoia crept in that he might be third-wheeling a gift-shopping expedition for a couple.

However, that fear was quickly dashed, as when the blue dragonborn jeweler asked what she could do to help, Wyll said, "I'm looking to have a new false eye made. My current one isn't suitable anymore and a glass one wouldn't work in my line of work. So, I need a metal one or a new stone one."

"Well, I can tell you now, sir, that a metal one is out of the question, it would be too heavy. However, I can make a base out of bitumen and..."

Astarion's attention drifted when the conversation turned to the intricacies of false eyes. His eyes wandered and they landed on one piece in particular. Locked under glass was a ring of mind-shielding. It was probably the most expensive item in this entire store. It had an amethyst as the jewel in a bezel setting, the gold band engraved with runes. Raphael's suggestion for ways to avoid Cazador came to mind. With a quick glance to ensure that Karlach and Wyll were still speaking to the jeweler, Astarion reached into his hair and pulled out a pin out of his hair, bending it as he walked up to the case, starting to quickly pick at the lock, keeping an ear out as he did. He could feel that there were four pins on this lock. The first went quickly

"And you're sure Opal is too soft?"

"Quite."

Pins two and three released. He heard Karlach say, "And if we brought a gem or a rock for you to polish up, would that work?"

"It would depend on what you brought, but yes, I could most certainly do it for a suitable stone."

The last pin went. Astarion had to work quickly. He opened the case just enough to reach his hand in and snatch a similar, inconsequential ring in the case to replace the ring of mind-shielding before switching it out and putting it in his pocket.

It was mere moments after he gently closed and relocked the case that Astarion was called over by Karlach. "Oy! Do you want to help us pick something?"

Astarion turned around and pointed at himself, genuine surprise showing on his face.

Wyll gave him a gentle smile and told him, "Yes, you. You look terribly bored and I would be a poor host indeed if I let you stay bored."

With his new ring of mind-shielding safely in his pocket, Astarion went up to the counter. He looked at the stones before him, still uncut and quite large. One a deep green with variously darker and lighter rings, one a dark, burnt orange color with various stripes, and a grey and shiny one with thin bands around it.

Wyll pointed to the green stone and told him, "That one is malachite. It takes protective spells well but it needs a coating so we've decided against it. Apparently, it would become toxic without one."

Astarion made a face at the concept of a poisonous rock offering protection and Wyll chuckled a bit, "Exactly, so now it's between tiger's eye and agate."

"I say to go for the tiger's eye. I mean, it has eye right in the name."

"That, and it has a nice color, but the agate does as well. It's a bit hard to decide." He looked to Astarion and said, "This is where you come in, a bit of a tiebreaker."

Astarion looked at the stones, examining them. He picked up both options and weighed them in his hands. He also held up both options to Wyll's face, the prince allowing him to compare both options as he told him, "To tell you the truth, I've never done this before. This eye wasn't exactly my choice. I appreciate you taking this so seriously."

Astarion nodded, assuring Wyll that he knew this was indeed serious business. And as he looked at both stones at Wyll's eye level, he concluded that, despite the tiger's eye being absolutely garish, he'd look good with either one. Everything just seemed to flatter the man, though he couldn't imagine a cute little pupil being carved into the tiger's eye. But maybe Wyll would look better with something more serious. He also didn't get to choose his current eye. What if he thought the pupil was stupid and thought Astarion frivolous? He put both stones down and made a heart shape with his hands before pointing to his own ruby-red eye.

"The pupil? A stylistic choice by my ex-patron, though admittedly a sweet one. Do you like it?"

Astarion nodded.

"Well, I'll keep it in mind when it's time to carve then."

Astaion looked at the stones once more. He was naturally leaning toward the agate but there was one more factor. Wyll was an adventurer, he would be performing all sorts of feats that were liable to get him killed, this would all be for naught if Astarion ended up a widower. So he looked to the jeweler and made the somatic gesture for Firebolt.

The jeweler looked confused for a moment before realizing, "Ah, you're asking about charms. Tiger's eye is attuned to warding magic while agate takes to warding or perception."

As the saying went, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. Astarion pointed pointed to the agate, his mind set. It was up to Wyll now.

"Alright then, we'll take the agate."

"Excellent choice, sir, if you'll follow me into the back, I can take a measurement.

Wyll nodded and followed the jeweler, leaving Astarion alone with Karlach. The spawn went to take a seat and Karlach followed. The two of them were in silence for a moment, Astarion because he had no choice and Karlach, he presumed, because she didn't know what to say. But she soon broke the silence as she asked, "So, this is probably rude but I was wondering about the eyes.

Astarion tensed. Did she know, somehow?

"Are you half drow? Again, sorry if that's rude, been wondering all morning."

Oh, thank the gods. He shook his head and raised four fingers.

"Ah, makes sense. I just saw the eyes and the way you flinched and kind of guessed. I knew a half-drow kid growing up here, his mum was the drow."

Astarion's eyes widened in surprise that she noticed the flinching. To his expression she gave a little laugh and said, "On a cold day when everyone is trying to warm up and appreciate how bright the sun is? Come on." She elbowed him gently and, with it being indoors, it was no longer uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry about your job by the way. Why was the boss mad?"

Astarion couldn't help but feel a touch judgemental when Karlach asked that. Did she seriously expect him to answer in his state? He wouldn't show it though. Instead, he simply shrugged.

"Ah, yeah, I get that. But hey, you can find something better now, at least."

Oh, she was certainly right about that. He had to wonder about her own issues. He pointed to her shoulder and pinched his hand in question.

"You asking if it hurts?"

He nodded.

"Eh, not really. Not unless something breaks and starts burning me. But that's pretty rare, not since Elturel. Getting it put in hurt like a mother fucker though."

Astarion pat her shoulder, not sure what else to do.

"Thanks, you're sweet. I'm used to having it though."

Astarion could certainly understand that, saying one was used to something so horrendous. But he also knew that it was a lie. It was something said to keep yourself sane. As he pulled his hand away, he almost felt bad for very briefly seeing her as a rival. But only almost. Quite frankly, he still wasn't sure what, exactly, her feelings were for Wyll. He couldn't blame her if her engine went all aflutter for her savior. And here he was, Wyll's savior, calling in a favor and trying to win him so a devil could manipulate him. It was utterly devious. It was the exact sort of job someone would use him for.

Karlach didn't want to dwell on the painful, however, nor did she suspect a single thing from Astarion as she went on to ask, "So, was your grandma or grandpa the dark elf?"

Wyll came out of the back of the store when Astarion was most of the way through pantomiming a fake backstory of a secondborn son set to be an old and lecherous matron's concubine before running away to Baldur's Gate, earning a perfectly honest living as a courtesan before settling down with a humble elf. Or at least, that was the story he was trying to convey. He'd been pantomiming the part where his fake grandmother wooed her little drow with a pair of earrings when he arrived, "Well, you two certainly made fast friends."

"Yeah, the guy's a riot."

Yes, good, approval. Astarion pointed to his right eye in question to Wyll.

"It'll be done within the ten-day, so well within our stay here."

They wouldn't be gone within the day or anything like that then. Good. Either way, he got up once more and clung to Wyll's arm. Karlach pointed out, "He sure likes hanging onto you."

"Oh, ah, he certainly does. We were actually flirting a bit before the fire."

"Oh? And you didn't tell me that the beautiful stranger who saved you was flirting with you?" Karlach teased.

"Oh, stop," he said, "But he was."

Karlach, smirking a bit, addressed Astarion now, telling him as they walked out, "Can't say I'm surprised. I mean, look at him, Don't take him saying no as straight-up rejection though. He likes you back, he's just a bit old-fashioned."

"I said nothing of the sort," Wyll told Karlach, though took no offense to the implication that he liked Astarion. It was quiet aside from all the people milling about as they trekked back to Wyrm's Rock.

Astarion didn't feel nervous about entering Wyrm's Rock since Wyll had invited him to stay, even less so when Wyll said, "Again, you're welcome to stay as long as you need," when they had arrived at the living quarters. What he was, instead, was mildly surprised. He had expected the Grand Duke's home to be finely furnished, full of victorious paintings and tapestries of monster hunting, from, how Cazador described Ravengard as self-righteous. But no, while certainly not spartan, the home seemed more befitting a minor noble than borderline royalty. But Astarion, despite himself, wasn't disappointed. The place was comfortable, and tasteful. The couches were made of velvet, the office chair he spied in an open room lined with fine leather, and the few commemorative paintings were clearly done by the finest artists. Astarion briefly stopped at a portrait of the duke, then the grand marshall, with a ten-year-old version of Wyll. The boy had been rendered adorably, all wide-eyed and happy. It was also evidence that Wyll hadn't always been a tiefling, for the portrait displayed not a stubby horned child, but a human one with dark brown eyes and not a hellish feature in sight. Indeed, he was not a descendent of the hells but changed by them. When they moved on with some happy ribbing from Karlach, they came to the guest room. And never before had Astarion been so glad to be in a guest room. For one, he was allowed to actually sleep here. For another, it was comfortable, with a feather bed, a good, thick set of curtains, and fine cedar nightstands, there was even a tub for bathing. It was heaven compared to the Szarr estate.

Wyll explained the reasoning for bringing him directly to the bedroom. "My father is in a meeting and won't be back until dinner. Meanwhile, Karlach and I have some work we need to do. Is that alright?"

Astarion nodded in understanding and to show it was perfectly fine. It gave him the opportunity to prepare if anything.

"Alright, there's extra clothes in the wardrobe and if you need anything, just ask." And then, he and Karlach left. As soon as the coast was clear, Astarion fished into his pocket and pulled out the ring of mind-shielding. It was almost too good to be true, that a rune-covered, amethyst ring could guard him from Cazador. He had certainly heard of it working and Raphael had mentioned it, but those could simply be the dreams of desperate spawns and a trick from a devil. There was only one way to know if this little magic ring could work. He slipped it onto his finger.

As soon as he got it on, there was a sense of peace, as if whispers he had been hearing his whole life had been silenced. The tension he felt in his brain stem was gone. His mind, his body, they were his own. He nearly collapsed, catching himself to sit on the bed as he let out a silent laugh of relief. He had done it, he had outsmarted Cazador and all he needed to do was steal a ring. Oh, he was going to enjoy this new life of his. The first order of business? A bath, hot and scented and sudsy.

It was a slight hassle to ask the Wyrm's Rock staff for what he needed, but so very worth it. Away from the window, he was able to enjoy the hot water. The scents of juniper and bergamot were strong enough to cover up the mild smell of undeath that followed him. Though, now that he thought about it as he scrubbed his scalp, he wouldn't be surprised if that scent came from all the damn ghouls in Cazador's palace. Either way, he felt much cleaner and much more relaxed. He didn't even need to worry about his hair, products having been left for him with the soaps and the oils. By the time he was done, he felt like a new man as he looked over the options for clothes. Seeing as it was a guest room, there weren't very many options, but he could certainly style them. Black breeches always made for a promising start, especially with a white shirt, but what to wear on top? He looked between a green doublet and a black one. Though something in his mind said that the green doublet matched with something, he knew that wasn't true. So, he opted for the black one, which had some tasteful gold accents. It was dark and broody but didn't scream vampire, it was modest and comfortable. It was perfect.

His confidence was palpable as he left the room. It was dark out and he didn't feel any sort of compulsion. If he focused, he could feel someone asking, no, demanding to be let into his mind. And he smirked as he resolutely ignored it, imagining Cazador absolutely furious and confused. Instead, he sauntered his way through the halls of Wyrm's Rock, exploring. He found the library, a war room, and some more guest rooms, all of them as lovely as his own. It was during his exploration that he ran into Wyll again. "Ah, there you are. was everything alright?"

Astarion nodded, taking note of Wyll's outfit. A dark, deep blue doublet with a white shirt underneath, the doublet having gold trim. It was good to know his future husband had good taste.

"That's good. I was actually just looking for you. Father and Karlach are waiting in the dining room for dinner. You want to join us, right?"

Astarion nodded most enthusiastically and followed Wyll close behind. Wyll was very sweet, he was, but Astarion wasn't going to get anywhere by just taking advantage of his hospitality. He needed to do something more. Maybe dinner would be an opportunity, if he could impress the Grand Duke, Wyll might consider Astarion worth his time. He wondered what Ulder Ravengard was like anyway. Obviously, he hadn't exactly thrown himself into opulence upon rising to the station, living here instead of in the upper city palace, that much he had heard had been true. And Cazador could not stand the man, mentioned that he avoided him like the plague when he was forced to meet with other patriars, calling Duke Ravengard an arrogant little knight when he went on one of his tirades, but that was more due to the Duke's attempts at curbing corruption rather than his actual personality. He really had very little to work with. So, upon arriving at the dining hall, he merely sat down at one of the tables, right across from Karlach and next to Wyll. On other days, this place probably hosted grand banquets but, right now, it was just four people at the end of a table.

"Ah, so you're the man who saved my son from that fire. It is wonderful to meet you." Ulder Ravengard said, holding out a hand for Astarion to shake, which he did. It was calloused from years of work and training as a Flaming Fist, more than Wyll's was. "And what is your name?"

Wyll flushed with embarrassment at the realization he had never caught Astarion's name. Never mind that Astarion had done that on purpose, the spawn was now regretting that. He wasn't sure if Wyll had told his father about his supposed condition but he patted his throat again anyway, hoping Ulder could catch on as well as his son.

"Ah, forgive me, my son mentioned that you had been injured, but we must call you something other than "you.""

Karlach spoke up then, "Want me to get some paper and ink?"

Astarion shook his head. It wasn't necessary. He first pointed to his ear.

"An elven name," Wyll immediately understood.

Astarion nodded and pointed out one of the windows.

Karlach took a guess then, "Is it Skye?"

Astarion made a face at that.

"Oof, ok, not Skye."

Ulder took a moment to think as he looked out the window, "Ithilen?"

Astarion shook his head, though did not make a face.

Wyll finally guessed, "Does it have something to do with stars?"

Astarion made a so-so motion with his free hand.

Wyll immediately got it right, "Astarion?"

Astarion blinked twice in surprise. He had not expected that. He had expected to be clear within the next guesses, but not so immediately. Either way, he nodded.

"Astarion. It's a lovely name."

But now Astarion had his own questions and, blast this deal, he needed to know how Wyll guessed. Did his ex-patron have some idea of the plan? Was she still sending him messages through his eye?"

Wyll noticed his confusion as he said, "Ah, this is a bit morbid but I saw that name on a grave in the upper city when I was a boy. It seemed so lonely up there, with no flowers and only vines, that it stuck in my mind and I remembered it when you said you had a star name." Wyll then had another thought, asking, "Do you have any relation to that person? Astarion Ancunin?"

Astarion lied and shook his head.

"Wyll is right that it's a lovely name. Ah, but please, eat, the food looks delicious, and not just because I'm famished."

While the living got to enjoy their meal of pork cooked in a marinade and served wih risotto, Astarion was, quite frankly, suffering. That potion had only been said to "cure" his problem with sunlight and, indeed, it had done only that. The meat tasted like ash despite smelling divine, the same went for the risotto, he was unable to enjoy the creamy texture from the ashen flavor of the rice and the rank, sour taste of mushrooms that were supposed to be savory and delightful. But it wouldn't be the first time he faked enjoyment of a meal, acting like it was the best thing he had eaten and washed it down with a wine that, while being a nice vintage that was probably some variety of dry to go with the meal, tasted like straight vinegar to him

Luckily, he was able to put his fork down when Ulder asked, "So, Astarion, what was your trade?"

Ah, a simple question. He made a sewing motion with his hands and the Grand Duke caught on, "Ah, a tailor? A fine profession. Francesca, Wyll's mother, was actually a seamstress before I became Grand Marshall. She wanted to keep it up, but her old clients felt a little uncomfortable with her station, so she took up needlepoint to occupy her mind."

Astarion listened in rapt attention. He had known that Ravengard had been common born but had always assumed that his wife was a lower noble, that he had married his way in. It was clear now that Lady Ravengard was in the same situation as her husband. How odd this city was, a noble magistrate like him could fall to such lows and a common person could rise to Grand Duke.

It was Karlach, sweet karlach, who asked the dreaded question, "So, who'd you work for? You mentioned that they were a patriar?"

Shit, no matter what he said, he was doomed. Even if he knew no one here would talk, walls had ears, even if he lied and mimed out a different patriar family, they would deny it in confusion, word would get back to Cazador, and he would know where Astarion was. he'd be dragged back, his ring of mind-shielding taken, and he'd be flayed before getting thrown in the crypt again, no doubt for ten years this time.

Wyll, either once again reading his face like a book, or out of some sense of noble propriety, quickly told him, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"Oh yeah, no, I've just got patriars on the brain is all. I know how they talk, so if you're not comfortable saying, I totally get it. I actually used to work for a guy who was upper crust too. It's a long story but he's actually why we're here."

Astarion titled his head in a question. They weren't here for a visit? Though it certainly explained why Karlach and Wyll needed to work today.

Grand Duke Ravengard shook his head, "I'm afraid not. My son and Karlach are heading an investigation. One of the councilors is a Banite and has dealings with Zhentarim and the slave trade. He's also accused of other crimes, but those have less evidence so far. Normally he would be on trial by now but what was found in the hells and couldn't be brought back. A man by the name of Enver Gortash."

Astarion recognized the name. Councilor Gortash had come calling to one of Cazador's many parties, offering his services. He even offered "labour," in case Cazador wanted to re-explore some ruin or mine or something of that sort. Cazador had declined. Astarion only really remembered it because it was such a strange interaction. Cazador usually liked taking every advantage he could, and Gortash had turned down the evening's "entertainment" before leaving, and it wasn't as if Gortash had been an innocent and shy little upstart, he had been looking. Either way, he wasn't surprised that the man was involved with the Zhents and all sorts of atrocities.

Karlach then said something that made it all the worse, "He, uh, he's actually how I ended up in the hells. Zariel had something he wanted, and Zariel wanted me."

Astarion could have guessed from the context; the evidence coming from the hells, the fact that they were investigating him, Karlach's slavery in Avernus, it all added up. He vaguely wondered, how could she be so cheery despite it all. Who went through literal hell and came out smiling?

Wyll patted Karlach's shoulder, telling her, "We'll get him, don't worry." He then looked to Astarion, telling him, "That's not to say that we'll be leaving you completely alone tomorrow. You can join us while we go investigating, and the day after there's going to be a welcome party. We'll be taking that day off."

"As you should, we all need it after spending weeks in the hells, even longer for Ms. Cliffgate."

"I suppose," but it was clear to Astarion that this a sort of enforced day off if the way Wyll's eyes flitted away was any indication. He probably wanted to get justice for his friend and celebrate after. Well, if it was to be that way, he would just need to be absolutely delightful, a perfect little investigative partner, and would make the day of the party the best of Wyll's life. He would surely get a kiss by the deadline. Wyll already liked him, making love blossom would be easy.

Just as dinner was ending and Astarion choked down his last bite of risotto, however, a flaming fist came in, "Grand Duke Ravengard, I come with news."

"Has something happened?" The Grand Duke stood up, clearly surprised to be interrupted.

"Yes sir, there was another smash-and-grab in the city."

"Don't tell me it's-"

"Another jewelry store, sir. Everything in the cases included magical items with hundreds of gold worth of damages, possibly thousands. Clearly the same outfit as the others"

"I see, has anyone been hurt?"

"Not this time, sir, but among the stolen items were a ring of mind-shielding and an Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location. they may be trying to run at this point."

Astarion wanted to laugh. They thought that the ring he had stolen had been taken in a smash-and-grab. Things couldn't possibly be going more perfectly.

"Alright, I'll go see what can be done." The Grand Duke looked to astarion and told him, "It was lovely to meet you, I once again thank you for saving my son." Ulder quickly shook Astarion's hand again before leaving.

Wyll got up as well, telling Astarion and Karlach, "I should go with him. Goodnight Astarion, I'll see you in the morning." He gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

And then there was Karlach, who asked, "You wanna come raid the kitchen for dessert with me?"

Astarion shook his head and Karlach said, "Suit yourself," before getting up and leaving.

Thus, Astarion was alone. He put his head in his hands and blew air through his nose. He felt awful after eating all that, the consequences of a vampire daring to eat actual good food were catching up to him. He began to run to the nearest window, the one he had pointed out to, opened it and immediately threw up into the snow outside. He was lucky no one had been outside and was grateful that, as a vampire, he had no bile to burn his throat. Just an empty stomach that always asked for blood.

As he wiped his mouth, he looked back into the dining hall. None had come in and seen that little display, good. He swiftly left to his room, washed out his mouth, and rubbed at his face. Two more days, Two more days of being the sweet, perfect little quarter-drow high elf and at least his place here would be secured. But how long would he have to hide himself? How long would he vomit out windows? He could explain the potion, the fact that he had never drank the blood of thinking creatures in his life, but would the virtuous blade and his father understand? He couldn't be sure of that. But would he be able to keep finding a permanent cure a secret? Ah, but he couldn't dwell on that. Not right now. For now, he just needed to deal with it. But that didn't mean he needed to miss out on an actual dinner.

He blew out the candle in his room and climbed out the window, knowing he would need to head to Rivington, he was in the mood for pig's blood.

#bloodpact #wyll ravengard #astaraion #karlach #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #wyllstarion

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