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mydisenchantedeulogy · 7 months

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On Air [Chapter Five] Sweet As Sin [Alastor]

A/n: I apologize that this story took me so long to update. This chapter was a bit of a pain, but I appreciate the patience. Thank you all. Please enjoy.

The song that Aelia starts to sing in this chapter is 'Tot Musica', the version done by Amalee.

Warning(s): depression, OC, singing, anger and disgust, murder, blood, mentions of abuse, demon powers, master/pet dynamic, dark themes, OC is a former serial killer.

Tag list: @dndmaniac

No Minors Allowed!!

A deep sense of uselessness haunted Aelia as she wearily stared up at the purple-tinted sky from her perch in Butcher Town. Her first day searching for a client, much to her disappointment, was met with failure. It was as she had feared; this task was much too great for her.

Alastor would be disappointed. Aelia tightened her jaw. The last thing she wanted to do was fail him, his praise meant the world to her. At the mere thought, her heart raced but at her core, she knew what awaited her was a look of reproach.

Aelia did not want to return to the lodge empty-handed with her wings dragging the ground, but what choice did she have? Dusk was drawing near and ground zero was for once silent as the grave. It seemed like once it got dark, the Sinners had better places to be.

With a heavy sigh, she rested on her back and opted to give it a little more time. Perhaps someone desperate would eventually fall into her lap.

Dream on, girl.

Aelia stretched her stiff wings. A break would do her some good; she was exhausted and irritated at being told to fuck off by those uninterested in her uncertain offers. Nothing was working for her. Humans on Earth were much easier to manipulate it seemed. She honestly needed a better approach, but that could wait.

Aelia was at peace. Being up high made her feel unreachable. She loved it, and despite the scent of smoke in the air, Butcher Town had its own special charm. It strangely reminded her of cookouts in the summer with her parents; the scent of wood smoke permeated the stale air.

A fond smile pulled at her lips, and then her voice rose in song.

“Whoa, hey, hey, whoa…”

Her silvery voice brought chills to her arms. It had been years since she had sung out loud; a habit she had often done to soothe herself. But now, to her shock, the pitch of her voice was strong and clear. It sounded almost ethereal and made her feel alive. The air around her even felt energized.

Aelia took a winded breath and sat up. What was this feeling? Her feathers tingled as though an electric current had shot through them.

“We will rejoice when we get the freedom promised. The freedom so many die–”

A horrified shrill scream echoed from down below. It took Aelia a moment to react, and though she should have felt concerned, all she could feel was irritation. Who would dare to interrupt her? It felt like the weight of the world had crashed onto her shoulders. She stood and crawled onto the parapet, then glanced down at the smoldering wreckage below.

At first, she did not see a single person. Then from the corner of her eye, a Sinner similar to a crocodile with dark cross-branding on their slender tail darted out from the corner of a nearby building. Their snout was narrow and their build was slim with pale yellow interconnected scales that indicated they were both young and female, but Aelia was not for certain. She raised a curious brow, watching the reptilian for a moment as she ran in terror past heaps of burning trash and patches of scorched earth, but to her shock, a gun demon gave chase, aiming a large caliber rifle at her that appeared to be in place of its left forearm.

“¡Papá (Dad)!” The reptilian screamed. “¡Ayuda (Help)!”

What was that dialect? Spanish?

A weird feeling of nostalgia washed over Aelia making her uneasy, but in the end, she opted to ignore the altercation. It was not her problem, she had her own issues to deal with. As she stepped off the parapet, a shrill gunshot halted her. Why did she flinch? It was sudden, yes, but expected. For a brief moment, to her annoyance, she imagined herself in the victim’s place.

“Please. No…I’m sorry. I swear.”

She shivered in disgust. How irritating. Some memories were better off locked in her head.

With a growl, Aelia bent over the edge again. She had expected to see a lifeless body down below but to her surprise, the reptilian had been merely nicked and was very much alive. Though, not for much longer.

The gun demon was starved for blood, driven by some inhuman motive, and closing in like a 90s horror movie slasher. Their aim was horrendous in Aelia’s opinion but they did manage to slow her down by maiming her right leg. The reptilian was persistent though. She limped in a panic across the grime-covered ground, trailing crimson blood behind her in a poor attempt to put some distance between herself and her assailant.

But the gun demon easily caught up and slammed the rifle into her head with a loud smack. As she fell to the ground, struggling to pick herself up, the demon watched in glee. Even from above, Aelia could see the hint of arousal on their face. It struck a nerve in her that she honestly had not felt in a long time.

He liked it when he hurt me. Couldn't get it up unless I was in tears.

Aelia did not know any better. She was young when she met him, and stupid when he convinced her that he was the only person who truly loved her. He made her a puppet; a sad worthless shell of a human. But then Alastor came along and insisted that she grow a backbone and take back her life.

Aelia felt her throat tighten as tears stung her stormy eyes. She was not a pathetic sobbing mess anymore and this display of power and control over another disgusted her. With fury behind the wheel, her wings rose and her feathers fluffed. The gun demon rested the barrel of the rifle against the reptilian’s head and chuckled as she pleaded.

“No…please.”

Aelia tightened her jaw. She had not seen her ex in years and yet she was seeing fleeting traces of him on the gun demon. She could not bear it. Raising her arm, the primary ombre feathers on both her wings disconnected and shot down like an arrow, circling the abuser in a frenzy.

“What the fuck is–”

Before the gun demon could finish, Aelia clenched her hand into a tight fist, and the feathers turned their hollow shafts, piercing their skin one by one in quick succession. The illusion of her ex had become a human pincushion, writhing and shouting in pain for compassion, but Aelia had none to give. Jets of blood soiled everything with a meter of their body as her feathers continued to lance them.

Then she offered mercy.

Aelia raised a thin finger and motioned down with it. A primary, colored gray and blue shot through the top of the demon’s head in a gruesome fashion. A garbled cry poured from their mouth, and then they fell to the ground with a wet slap.

Panting, Aelia watched the demon’s body twitch. She might have overdone it just a bit. Alastor did say Sinners were more resilient than they looked, but she was certain this one was dead. She turned her eyes to the reptilian, witnessing a plethora of emotions wash over her bloodstained face; relief, confusion, then fear as her yellow eyes noticed Aelia on the top of the building. Then in horror, she limped off into the shadow of a nearby alleyway, leaving her rescuer feeling a bit irritated.

You're welcome.

Aelia leaped off the parapet and sat down in exhaustion. She needed a moment to breathe. A lot had come over her; emotions that she thought would not haunt her in the afterlife. Fear and bitterness…thoughts of him. For some reason, her past still had a grip on her.

We're all Sinners here, some worse than others. I can't start attacking every person who reminds me of him.

Her stomach churned with unease. The next time–

“Hello, my dear,” A familiar voice suddenly greeted her.

Aelia squeaked in fear and turned to face Alastor near the parapet, who had somehow snuck up on her. She did not even hear or see him walk onto the roof.

“You scared me.”

The said man widened his smile and then glimpsed off the edge, humming in delight.

“You've had a rather productive day, haven't you?”

It was as if he knew what she had been doing. Aelia frowned, standing to greet him. As much as she did not want to bring it up, she felt as though she must.

“I've had no luck with making a deal.”

The sound of static filled her fears but when Alastor faced her, he did not look mad or upset by her revelation. Still, Aelia was shaken.

“There is still time. I know I–”

“It's quite alright, bèt kay (pet). I know you won't fail me.” He paused to glance back at the body of the gun demon on the ground below. “Why look how much you've already advanced. You've made the utmost impression on me.”

Aelia was unaware, but the hearts returned to her eyes. She felt suddenly warm, as though all her worries had been erased.

“I'm delighted you think so, master.”

Her wings lifted in response but to her horror, she noticed that many of her feathers were missing. Aelia widened her eyes; it looked like she was molting.

This is a bit embarrassing.

Heat swept across her face. She was new to her body and not certain if the feathers would even grow back or not. It's not like it came with an instruction manual she could consult.

Tucking her wings tight against her body, she turned the subject of the conversation over to him.

“Was your outing pleasant?”

“As pleasant as one can expect from Butcher Town, my dear,” Alastor remarked.

He longed for the day of his return. It was drawing near, but time was ticking by ever so slowly in his opinion.

“But that's neither here nor now.” He paused to twirl his cane, pointing toward the door that led to the roof. “Let us return to the lodge. There is something I want to show you.”

Aelia felt a bit gloomy, but she nodded and silently followed him from the roof. Back home, she made Alastor a cup of coffee and herself some warm tea, honey vanilla chamomile; a drink she took delight in knowing that he purchased for her considering his dislike for it, and sat with him at the dining table.

With a snap of his fingers, a flier of some type appeared in front of her. It almost looked like a young child made it, decorating the page with rainbows and sticks of cotton candy. The name ‘Happy Hotel’ was written at the top.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Alastor inquired.

“It's…colorful,” Aelia remarked.

She honestly didn't know what to think about it. It was something she expected to see in Hell. The flier did not give much detail other than asking: Would you like to be cured? What did that even mean? Aelia sat it down and took a sip of her tea, humming as the two cubes of sugar she had added, sweetened it to her liking.

“Is this another one of the projects you mentioned?”

Alastor widened his smile.

“It could be. In the next few days, I'll know for sure.” He paused to take a drink, then sat the mug on the table. “This project will be one I require your aid with.”

Aelia felt her heart race.

“Of course. I would be–”

“Should you of course obtain a soul,” he interrupted.

The weight of the world felt like it was resting on her shoulders. Aelia felt overwhelmed. She did not know what reason Alastor wanted her to complete this task, but she knew it must have been important to him.

“I understand,” she uttered.

Alastor tilted his head, gauging her. Despite the consequences, she was undoubtedly trying. It pleased him.

“A suggestion, my dear. A smile is a valuable tool. In your arsenal, it shows you are confident even when you are not, and to desperate Sinners, it shows that you are the one holding all the cards.”

Was it really that simple? A smile. Who was she to question Alastor? He won her over with a few kind words. Aelia at least felt a bit more confident with his words resting in her mind.

“A smile. I can do that.”

To emphasize her point, she smiled at him.

Alastor was elated. He took a shot in the dark with this one, and so far, his gamble was paying off.

“My dear, you are sweet as sin.”

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x oc #oc #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor hazbin hotel #dark themes #murderer oc #Spotify

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amyyythestarry · 10 months

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YUGI TWINS HCS!!

( All photos from Pinterest )

On their 12th birthday their parents got them keychains for their keys, because they were growing up and they thought they should have keys to their house. Amane got a rocket ship keychain and Tsukasa got a beetle.

Amane likes vanilla flavored cake because it’s simple and Tsukasa likes chocolate because it’s flavorful. But both of them don’t like birthday cakes that much so they have donuts.

Amane autistic a** just likes plain sweet donuts.

Tsukasa audhd a** likes flavorful things ( Sometimes, but more often than Amane ).

When Mitsuba figures out what a birthday is he asks Tsukasa what’s his birthday, it takes a while for Tsukasa to remember but he answers.

Then Mitsuba, Sakura and Natsuhiko plan a little surprise birthday party.

They keep Tsukasa busy enough to stay out of the broadcasting room for a two days so they can get everything set up.

Then on his birthday he comes to the broadcasting room, turns on the lights and,

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TSUKASA!”

It’s not so loud, even though it’s the Broadcast club and a lot of Mokkes because Sakura doesn’t think Tsukasa likes loud out of control and sudden noises so it’s at regular volume.

Tsukasa stares blankly at everything for a few minutes, the decorations, little pile of presents in the corner and table with food and donuts.

They start to doubt if he likes it or not until he finally says something.

“What is all of this..?” - Tsu

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” - Mitsu

They say it’s his small birthday party they set up, and he still doesn’t react any way, but subtly shocked.

“…. Do you like it?” - Saku

It’s takes a few minutes, longer than expected for Tsu to look around again. But then he mumbles, “I like it..”

“But.. Why..??” - Tsu

“Because it’s your b-day.” - Natsu

“Yeah, when was the last time you even celebrated?” - Some rando Mokke

Tsu shrugs because that’s too many years to count.

Then they just have a good time, and Tsu has a good time which is great.

Saku gives him a short beetle locket necklace, that reminds him too much of the beetle keychain he once had

Mitsu gives him a promise bracelet to match with his.

Natsuhiko gives him a sketchbook, because i’d be better to stop drawing on the walls.

And the Mokke give him boxes of candy.

Plus they all give him a matching friendship pocket charm. Tsu puts the charm in his locket.

Would Tsu be lying if he said he wasn’t internally emotional and felt like crying?

Hanako also has a surprise party, but since the bathroom isn’t as big it’s just decorated and they hang out as usual while giving him his presents.

He’s also really really shocked but rolls with it.

Nene gives him a starfish necklace. It’s a fish, and she loves fish and marine animals, but he likes stars and space stuff so it’s perfect!

Kou gave him a book about astrology and crystals that he thinks he would like ( He kind of doubted it a little but was relieved when Hanako was so happy )

And Aoi gave him a matching heart necklace

Hanako almost cries.

Also, matching Toilet Squad locket necklaces

Nene and Aoi have the heart, Kou has the circle, and Hanako has the star.

PLUS! Tsukasa got Hanako a present! Because why wouldn’t he give his dear twin brother a present?

He gives him a box with a plain donut ( Like how their mom used to make them ) and has a self-made matching bracelet and note.

“Dear Amane, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday this year. You must have been lonely the last few years, or not? I was. Doesn’t matter now! Happy Birthday big brother. I love you.

The tears he was holding in finally slipped. But he quickly wiped them away.

He felt too sick to eat the donut, but he’d feel even more guilty to not eat it. So he did. And put the bracelet in his pocket.

He would feel way too guilty about not giving Tsu a present back, because that is literally the least he can do, so he got him a card saying happy birthday back.

Tsu was overjoyed but also very melancholic.

For their birthday they used to always make donuts with their mom and dad. The special ingredient being cinnamon and vanilla abstract.

Every birthday their dad gives them a new toy to add to their playroom.

On their 7th birthday Mr. Yugi tricked Tsu into thinking he was getting a koala plushie ( He hates Koalas bc they beat him up ).

The twins always sneak some birthday food into their mouths before their birthday. ( Sometimes without their mom or dad knowing )

But half of the time it’s always Amane’s idea.

“Hey Tsu, want to eat the birthday food?”

Tsu always agrees.

Criminal big bro, convincing little bro to engage in committing crimes.

When they both died Hanako never thought about their birthday ever again.

HAPPY BDAY HANAKO AND TSUKASA!

✩︎★︎

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tieflingtareon · 11 months

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My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 28 | Words: 8.4k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar'eon wasn't sure what to do with himself. He had two options. Tell everyone he was a Bhaalspawn and hope they'd look past it, or keep it a secret, and hope it wasn't found out in a particularly bad way. On one had, if he managed to keep it a secret, he wouldn't lose his friends and would hopefully find a way to cure his urges anyway. But, if he was found out, they'd draw their own conclusions to why he kept it a secret in the first place. If he told them, they'd either promise their support, or try to kill him, and worse, they'd be divided and he'd have to watch a bloodbath nobody wanted.

He sighed and hung his head. He was starting to get a headache now. He didn't have to tell them right now. He could...give it a day. Really think about whether it was important enough or not. There was so much at stake...

When they left, waving to the others, Tar'eon focused on exploring, getting to know the town. He found a Ilmater temple, and seeing as he had prayed to him before, he decided to check it out. Hearing the priest had been killed, and a tiefling assumed the problem, he decided he could look into it, if only to help the refugees. If he could prove that it wasn't their fault, they may still get refuge from the temple. Which led him down a rabbit hole, a wall, and to a bunch of shapeshifters. They were plaguing the place, but he couldn't find anymore evidence despite his searching. Not in the temple at least.

He appeared outside a cave mouth, and once he stocked up on fish for dinner, he made his way to explore the shores, which lead him to another fight. He hadn't meant to start this one, to be fair. It just...happened. Apparently he was rude, but Astarion had a good time stealing everything, including more tadpoles. He wasn't sure how many they had so far, but it was slightly concerning the amount they had back at camp. Better in their hands then others though.

He felt like he had made a breakthrough when he stumbled upon a Gur camp though. The shocking part was seeing the Gur again.

"We...we did kill him, didn't we?" Astarion asked him, looking a little horrified to see the man again.

"Apparently not."

"No, I definitely did."

"Maybe another Gur found him and revived him."

"I didn't smell any other Gur." Astarion bit out before the man gave a jovial greeting.

"My friend from the hag swamp? You join us as we honour our fallen dead - you are a bright light on a dark day. Even you, my erstwhile quarry."

"...Maybe you scrambled his brain when you gouged out his eye." Tar'eon whispered.

"Shut up. Act natural." Astarion gave a charming smile and a smile wave as he wavered himself through a greeting. "Oh, eh...Hello again?"

"Isn't this the guy-?"

"Shut up, Wyll." Astarion cleared his throat. "I feel we're intruding, we should leave. Quickly."

"Calm yourself - you will not be harmed." Astarion grimaced just as Gandrel did. "Our leader had called off the hunt. She wishes to speak to you." The elder woman finished her prayer - chant? - and approached as Gandrel stepped aside.

"So, the impossible spawn walks amongst us in the blazing sun. We have been looking for you."

"What do you want with Astarion?" Tar'eon stepped forward to put himself ever so slightly in front of the vampire on instinct, just as he had when Gandrel met them in the swamp.

"The last time your friend came to our camp, he stole our children. Our future." Tar'eon looked at Astarion in shock, wondering if it was true. The vampire wouldn't look at him, glare focused on the woman.

"When I was hunting you, I was to bring you back here. To interrogate you, discover how to save our children, and then destroy you." Gandrel said it like it was simply a matter of fact.

"But things have changed. You have changed." The woman tilted her head. "Is it true you left your master? That you broke the spell that binds you to him?"

"Well, I mean...kind of? It's a long story, honestly." Astarion looked nervous. He wasn't fond of Gur, and perhaps being surrounded by them was making his danger radar ping like crazy.

"Yes. Astarion is free now." Tar'eon answered for her.

"Free? Not while his master still lives. But he has, perhaps, earned a second chance." Astarion looked pleased to hear that, unfolding his arms. "We have tried to save our children already, attacking Cazador Szarr's palace at first light. Even then, it was too well defended." She admitted bitterly.

"But, if his own spawn approached? Someone he thought he could control? He would throw his doors open and welcome you in. And once inside, you could do what we could not. You could save the children you damned."

"You don't know Cazador like I do - he's merciless. You want me to march into the lion's den and save your children, but I promise you, they're already dead." Astarion didn't exactly sound proud of it either. He likely brought Gur children on Cazador's orders. Or perhaps children in general. It wouldn't surprise Tar'eon to know Astarion picked Gur children over regular children, given his hatred for them.

"How can you be sure?" Tar'eon asked, and Astarion gritted his teeth.

"I spent two hundred years bringing him victims!" Astarion snapped, like it wasn't obvious he would know Cazador's ways. "Each and every one was whisked away to be fed on that night."

"But you never saw him feed yourself? He could keep prisoners for days before killing them." Ulma pointed out.

"I know our plight is grim, but if there is even a chance to save them, we must take it." Gandrel near pleaded.

"If our children are truly gone, then we ask for blood. I know you can understand that, spawn." Tar'eon grimaced at her tone. If what she said was true though, then Astarion had to make this right. To damn child to Cazador...they couldn't let that be. If they were already dead? Then blood would spill as the Gurs asked.

"You owe them revenge, Astar. If nothing else, you owe them that."

"I suppose...Yes." He sounded a million miles away before he smirked at Ulma. "Yes, revenge I can do."

"Thank you, from me and all my people. If you can do this, we will be in your debt." She smiled at Tar'eon before turning her hardened gaze to Astarion. "You have lived a life of violence and sin. You have stolen lives, broken families, and caused immeasurable grief. Doing this will not right those wrongs."

Astarion gave a half-laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"If you're trying to encourage me, you're failing abysmally."

"But it will be a start. You may still be redeemed." She smiled now, and Tar'eon found himself agreeing. He liked her outlook. Perhaps he could adopt that himself. He had done so much wrong in his past but...perhaps he could still be redeemed, if we killed the elder brain and made all of this right again. It wouldn't bring the dead back, but it would be start.

"Please, go. Time is short, but we will see you again when it is done." Tar'eon bowed his head to her and lead Astarion away. The vampire looked worlds away.

"Are you alright?"

"Hm? Yes, yes, I...Just lost in thought." Astarion cleared his throat. "I suppose we have even more reason to kill Cazador now."

"Did we need more reason?" Tar'eon mused and Astarion laughed.

"No. No, we truly didn't." He smiled and they made their way back into town, where Tar'eon found himself truly looking at the posters on the walls now. He frowned as he looked at Enver's face on the printed page.

"Lord Enver Gortash..." He mumbled to himself. Personally, he thought he looked better in person than on paper. Then again, he shouldn't have an opinion on such things to begin with. His stomach turned, churning with nerves. He knew he needed to kill Orin. He needed Enver's stone too. Gortash's stone. Fuck, what was wrong with his head? Referring to their enemies so casually in his mind?

He hadn't realised how long he'd been staring until Astarion stood beside him, tilting his head.

"Is there something...interesting about this or...?" He quirked a brow at his lover and Tar'eon sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"I...You know when you know you know somebody, but you can't remember anything about them outside their face or name?"

"Are you telling me you know this...Lord Gortash?" Astarion wrinkled his nose at even referring to the man with such a title.

"Well, no, I don't know him but...I think I used to? Maybe. Everything's all...scrambled up in there."

"Well...If you knew Orin who works with Gortash, then perhaps that's all it was. He's an arms dealer right? Maybe you bought some stuff from him. Not everything had a deeper meaning, you know?" Astarion was attempting to reassure him, but Tar'eon shook his head.

"I don't think it was like that. I think it was..." He thought back to the memory of that dark office, of the hand around his throat, and he swallowed hard. "I think we were close. Friends even."

"Friends?" Astarion frowned, looking thoughtful. "I suppose. If he's working with Orin in this Absolute business, despite their current possible falling out, and Orin seems to have ties to you, it's possible you had ties with both prior to their plans of world domination."

"I just don't know what to do about it." Tar'eon admitted. "Karlach hates him, and she has every right to, but...Something is stopping me from wanting to kill him as much as I do Orin. If he knows about my past, I might be able to learn something from him. Something that isn't all just...blood and guts."

"Blood and guts is fun though." Astarion patted his shoulder. "Look, if you ask me very nicely, I could always see about kidnapping the man and forcing him to answer all your questions."

Tar'eon grinned. It was a touching sentiment from Astarion.

"Thank you. But it's alright. I'll figure out what to do when the time comes. For now, I just want to get rid of Orin. She's the most dangerous out of the two of them."

"In time, my love." Astarion assured. Tar'eon finally pulled himself away from the poster and made inside the building. It looked like a postal service. After a chat with the man behind the desk, he promised to check on the missing pigeons. It was a merger thing for him to do, so it didn't hurt to look around. If they found something, they found something. He glanced off to the side and his eyes widened at the poster on the desk.

A coronation? Gortash was becoming Archduke? He picked up the paper and slipped it into his pocket. It even told him where the coronation would be. If he wanted to talk to the man, that might be his chance...

He spoke to some pigeons, but that didn't help him much. He was surprised to find messenger dogs in the yard though, in their cages, but only one whimper from Scratch at the woman in charge made him want to slit her throat. Her insistence on taking Scratch back...He could see right through her.

"I'll break every bone in your body before I let you hurt my dog." His sudden threat made her stagger.

"You- you'll do no such thing."

"It's not just Scratch. She's always hurting the dogs." Dringo spoke up and Tar'eons hackles raised with a glower, crossing his arms.

"Shut your mouth, Dringo." She raised a fist as if to hit him, but hesitated before looking at Tar'eon. "Last warning."

He would cave her skull in before he let her hurt another animal.

"You know...Lord Gortash and I; we're quite close." He thumbed at the poster folded up in his pocket besides the prism. "I know for a fact that he abhors animal abuse. Perhaps I should report you to him?"

"Fine. You think you can do a better job without me? Be my guest. They're a useless bunch of mongrels. You're welcome to them!" She stalked off with that and Tar'eon glanced at Astarion. The vampire quirked a brow and Tar'eon nodded him off towards the woman. Astarion's eyes lit up and he winked before slinking away, no doubt using the shadows and the illusion of the eye to slit her throat around the corner, lest she be a repeat offender. Tar'eon could tolerate much - but animal abuse? Not ever.

"You- you got rid of her." Dringo sounded so shocked, like he hadn't realised it was possible. "I'll do a better job looking after these dogs than she ever did. I promise."

"I know you will." Tar'eon smiled. "Because if you don't, I'll break every bone in your body." Dringo laughed nervously, like he wasn't sure if Tar'eon was kidding. He wasn't.

"Okay...Bye." He went back his duties with that and Astarion came back, wiping his dagger on his pant leg.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Not at all."

"Did you just sick Astarion on that woman?" Gale asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Astarion smirked. "I took great delight in her little whimpers as she died."

"Gods...Well, I suppose she deserved it." Wyll shrugged.

"...I want to say she didn't, but she definitely did." Gale agreed.

"Good, we're in agreement. Let's go." Tar'eon beckoned them all to follow him out of the postal office, looking off towards the giant robot at the gate. He frowned.

"What on Toril is that?" Tar'eon asked. Wyll grimaced.

"The Steel Watch. I heard some citizens talking about them. Lord Gortash is the one who makes them and they follow his orders."

"I see..." Tar'eon frowned, looking around the gate. "I don't exactly want him to know we're here yet, or for his Steel Watch to kill us so...we'll find a way around."

"I think I see one. A few scoundrels are using it themselves." Astarion smirked as he pointed out a ledge and a ladder.

"Lead the way." It took some grunting and heaving, but they managed to find themselves on the other side, activating another portal so the others could follow. "Well...time to explore I suppose."

"Oh, you'll like this side of town." Astarion laughed.

Tar'eon didn't ask.

****

He should have asked. He was not expecting to be dragged into a brothel. The name should have given him a hint, he knew that, but on the plus side, he found out that their favourite - note the sarcasm - devil was present. The talk with him hadn't lasted long. Tar'eon was not offering that cambion any more power than he already had, even if it meant a way to free Orpheus and ease the guilt over leaving the man in his prison. Raphael assured him that he'd be back, but he didn't intend on it.

"Oh look, an entertainment area." Astarion sounded almost giddy as he guided them past some curtains in the lobby. Tar'eon felt his cheeks warm as he watched a woman dance on the stage, an upbeat tune playing around them. "A den of heathenism. I feel right at home." Astarion laughed, a haughty laugh that lacked any real truth to his statement.

"I...do not." Tar'eon cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, yes, I- I agree with Tar'eon." Gale scratched the side of his neck, looking uncomfortable as his eyes roamed over the people in the room.

"I won't say I've never indulged in my youth, but...it's not my preference to pay for that kind of intimacy." Wyll pursed his lips. A woman brushed a hand over his shoulder and he jumped a little, giving a charming smile that didn't really reach his eyes, taking her hand off him and guided her away to the next, more willing patron. She managed to graze a hand along one horn though, admiring, and Wyll's brows pinched.

"I feel like they assume I'm staff rather than a patron." Wyll frowned.

"This place is all about the exotic from what I'm seeing. You look the part." Gale informed and Wyll gave him an unimpressed side eye. "Uh, in the most - in the nicest way possible. They even have drow!" He gestured to a pair of twins in the corner.

"How observant, Gale." Astarion drawled. As if they could tell they were the topic of discussion, the two drow siblings in question turned their way, the woman's eyes gazing over their party, but lingering on Tar'eon. It was hard not to focus on him, being the largest of the part.

"A new face! Looking for another chapter of dirty lore for your biography?" The male drow smiled at Tar'eon, seeming to appreciate the whole package before him. "Sorn." He introduced himself with a wink.

"I can tell you're a special one from a single glance." The female drow stepped closer and smiled, demure and sweet. "I am Nym. You have but to ask, and we can grant you a moment of pleasure. Don't be shy."

Tar'eon blinked slowly, taking a moment for the offer to sink in. His eyes widened.

"What...kind of service do you provide exactly?" There was no way he was being propositioned right now. Astarion? That would make sense, he's gorgeous, even Gale had an almost rugged charm to him, and Wyll? Well, Wyll had a body to die for with his strict routine to keep in shape. Tar'eon was...well, Tar'eon. He knew he had his appeals, he was in shape, and Astarion assured him he was attracted to him, but he was more...useful and mildly terrifying, than attractive in his opinion. What with his unsettling glowing eyes and looming figure, the scars across one side of his face not exactly pretty, and the patches of discoloration on his skin not leaving him with a smooth, even complexion.

He was more beast than lover in appearance, though maybe that was the bigotry getting to him about his tiefling heritage. Sorn chuckled at his naivety.

"What do you think, silly? Love, of course! Hot and vulgar with me, or sweet and sincere with my sister." He was selling himself a lot more than her by his tone, and Tar'eon wasn't sure if that was sweet or if he was just really horny. "Trust me, you don't want to miss my signature Menzoberranzan Love Trick."

"I see...and you enjoy this work?" He felt the need to ask. He was constantly coming across people who needed help. He'd gladly assist them if he could.

"There are so many that come to me speaking of a fixation that no one else has ever been able to share with them...and never will again. A once in a lifetime moment of passion. Everyday. What could be better?" He seemed to really believe it. "In this field I can be myself boundlessly. We could easily take up other work if we wished, but we're quite happy here."

"Well, I can't judge you if you're happy." Tar'eon smiled. Astarion tilted his head at the drows, stepping a touch close to Tar'eon who still looked a little uncomfortable.

"Is that your partner with you?" Nym asked. "What a gorgeous couple...perhaps we could come to an agreement?" Tar'eon frowned.

"What are you interested in my partner?" He could understand, he supposed. Astarion was beautiful, but she seemed to know he was taken and was still propositioning them both. Was that normal in brothels?

"Well, there are two of us, aren't there? Use your imagination."

"Oh." Tar'eon took a moment. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." Nym chuckled, amused by the tieflings shyness. Astarion cleared his throat.

"I- Sorry, love, I'm not quite comfortable with doing this again just yet." Astarion admitted, looking a touch upset with himself, like he was depriving Tar'eon of something because of his lack of desire to entangle with another - or anyone for that matter.

"I wouldn't ask such a thing of you, Astar. Not ever." Tar'eon assured. Did he think him so callous? The vampire made a sound of disgust.

"Don't be so nice to me! It makes me want to be," He looked pained. "Nice back."

"Is that such a crime?" Tar'eon asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he turned back to the twins. "I apologise, but I'll have to decline."

"Well, we'll be here if you change your mind." Nym smiled, peaking behind Tar'eon to Gale and Wyll. "Perhaps your companions might be interested in my brother and I?"

"Oh, no, no thank you, that's- you're both gorgeous, there's no lie there. I'm just not comfortable with that sort of thing." Gale smiled tightly.

"I- I agree. I want romance, not - not debauchery." Wyll fiddled with his gloves. "I value affection over fun, a lasting memory over a passing fancy."

"We're in agreement there." Gale chuckled, glancing at Wyll for a moment before he bowed is head to Nym and Sorn. "It's all a bit much for me. Thank you for the offer, but we'll pass."

"A shame. It's rare we see a man more exotic than us." Sorn chuckled and Wyll gave a thin smile.

"Temporarily exotic, I- Can we go, please?" Wyll turned to Gale who nodded quickly.

"Yes, I think- we've overstayed our welcome, we have much to do, much to explore." Gale placed a hand on Wyll's shoulder and slipped away past the curtain. Tar'eon frowned. Wyll was obviously not taking kindly to the spotlight, and this place attracted all the wrong attention.

"I wish you both the best luck in your endeavours."

"Do consider coming back. I would not mind showing the wonders of a drow lover." Sorn winked, voice sultry.

"He needn't a more wondrous lover than I, thank you." Astarion smiled wide, showing off his fangs as he lead Tar'eon out of the lobby. Tar'eon felt like he could only breathe properly once he was outside. "This wouldn't happen if you weren't so gorgeous, you know?"

"I- I wouldn't call myself gorgeous." Tar'eon blushed. "I think you fit that title much better than I."

"Please, you're six and half feet worth of pure muscle, yet you're as cozy as a fur blanket. Who wouldn't want you?" Astarion smirked. "It's good thing I got in first. Would have been a pity to not have you wrapped around my finger."

"I am very much wrapped around your finger." Tar'eon chuckled, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. "And I don't mind it one bit." His tail gave a happy flick behind him. With Astarion, it was easy to forget everything that troubled him.

"Yes, yes, I'm magnificent - we should go check on prince charming and his wizard."

"Worried?"

"Not even I enjoyed being gawked at when I started luring prey to Cazador. It's something you become accustom to over time. Doesn't make you feel any less disgusting about it." Astarion made a face like he smelt something rancid, moving ahead to approach the pair who were talking outside another establishment.

Wyll had his arms crossed over his chest as Gale spoke in a low voice, a small smile on his face as he traced a scar that travelled along Wyll's cheekbone, the warlock's eyes downcast. Slowly, his arms unfolded, smiling at the wizard in return. Whatever he had said, it worked like magic. Gale grinned, obviously pleased to have reassured Wyll enough for him to relax. He pressed a short kiss to his lips, the swordsman's expression full of fondness.

"Well? Everything sorted then?" Astarion mused and Wyll looked bashful before he stood straighter. Gale gave a boastful grin.

"Dandy as a dandelion! Where to next? I've heard there's quite a few shops around - perhaps we'll stumble upon a bookshop? I'm starting to run out of good books."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Wyll agreed. "Perhaps...we part ways for a couple hours? We can meet back here. I think we could all do with a wander."

"Alright..." Tar'eon frowned slightly. "Just be careful. We don't know what's awaiting us at any corner of this place. If things get messy, portal back to camp and we'll meet you there if you're not here by sundown."

"A good plan." Wyll agreed. "Well...We will reunite at sundown." Wyll offered his arm to Gale. "Shall we?"

"Oh, uh...of course!" Gale hesitated before taking the arm, obviously not used to being the one who took up romance gestures rather than gave them.

"You've lived most of your life in Waterdeep, I'm to assume? Allow me to show you my home." Wyll smiled fondly as he led Gale down the street, lips moving in idle chatter that Tar'eon couldn't make out. He smiled at the pair.

"Those two just wanted to go on a date." Astarion shook his head. "Gods, it's almost too sweet."

"Didn't you also want to show me Baldur's Gate?" Tar'eon chuckled.

"Well...I'm more familiar with the Upper and Lower cities than Wyrm's Crossing, but they do have a few things I enjoy. Good tailors for one." Astarion's eyes drifted to the building in front of them. "Ah. I've been here before. I wonder..." He frowned thoughtfully and took Tar'eons bicep, pulling him along to follow him inside.

"What's this place?"

"Fraygo's Flophouse. I've been here a couple hundred times, but I preferred the Elfsong Tavern. Better booze, and a continuous rotation of fresh faces who hadn't been warned off not to stumble into my bed. After all, all my lovers were just so heartbroken after a night of passion with me they fled the city before dawn." He sighed dramatically before smirking. That had been a reoccurring rumour he thought quite funny. Much nicer than the reality of what he was doing with his victims.

"I see." Tar'eon looked around the lobby curiously, but Astarion beckoned him up the stairs. He wondered if it was still the same old place he remembered it being, even if it had only a couple months since he last saw it. Just as he predicted, his siblings were in their usual hunting ground. Seeing them still out past dawn was strange though. Considering they were staying in the shadows of the room, curtain drawn tight on their side, they were obviously still cautious of burning to a crisp.

"I want someone there, ready for me. And once the Mass is done and our lord grants us our freedom, I can celebrate by drinking them dry."

"Cazador promised you your freedom? And you believed him?" Astarion laughed in their faces as their stupidity. Two centuries of torture and they learned nothing. It was pathetic how gullible they were. "You were never burdened with intelligence, Petras, but your load seems especially light these days."

"Astar..." Tar'eon sighed. Must he rile up everyone they happened upon?

"Astarion? It- it cannot be..."

"That's no way to welcome back a brother, Dal. Didn't you miss me?" Astarion asked, feigning hurt before he smirked, gesturing to himself in all his new glory. Let them envy him. It would be a nice change from the pity they once bestowed upon him, being Cazador's favourite screamer.

"Why would you come back? You got out - you were free." Dalyria couldn't fathom it. If it had been her, she would have made herself disappear for good, never to be found again.

"We're here to kill Cazador. That's the only way you'll truly be free." Tar'eon explained. It would be better to have them on their side rather than against them.

"You- you can't mean that."

"He's playing mind games. He can't raise a hand to the master, let alone kill him." Petras barely restrained a scoff at the very notion. Astarion had always been the jester amongst them, making up for any lack of charisma with humour, which worked just the same.

"You have no idea what I can do." Astarion's eyes grew dark, much like that of a predator as he stepped forward and grabbed Petras by the throat, dragging him over to the sunlight coming through the opposite window.

"Astar-"

"No!" Dalyria didn't make a move to come any closer despite the anguish in her cry, terrified of burning away like Petras was beginning to, his skin becoming grey and cracked, ashen beneath the sunlight.

"Where is he hiding?" Astarion rasped, a scowl marring his features as his 'brother' struggled against his hold. "Tell me!"

Petras cried out in pain, unable to speak through the agony.

"Brother, please!" Dalyria's begged, and Tar'eon pursed his lips. He didn't like watching this either - he didn't like the way the Urge stirred in delight at the sight of Astarion's chilling cruelty.

"Astar, stop." He spoke firmly, and Astarion sneered, glaring down at Petras before he relented.

"Fine." He threw him aside, out of the light, and Petras stumbled back to his sisters side, his hand clamped around her wrist like she might be able to save him from the wrath of the eldest. "You owe your wretched life to my friend. Now tell me what I need to know."

"The master is preparing the Black Mass. Beneath his palace. There's a defiled chapel - it was hidden there the entire time. Hidden from us all." Dalyria broke, not wanting Astarion to take back his mercy. "Do you really think...you can stop him?" The wisp of hope in her voice broke Tar'eons heart.

"I'm the only one who can. The sun can't harm me, Cazador can't compel me. I don't need to fear him anymore." Astarion smirked. "Now go, before I change my mind about roasting you, brother."

"This isn't over, Astarion." Dalyria assured. Tar'eon reached into his pack and withdrew a healing potion, offering it to Petras who looked surprised.

"I'm not sure how much it'll help, but...it looks painful. Please - don't give up hope. You won't have to fear Cazador any longer once we're through with him." The vampire spawn took the potion, Dalyria's eyes widening ever so slightly at the compassion being shown to them by their brothers companion.

"I...thank you. Goodbye, brother." Dalyria whispered and the pair vanished.

"You're really too nice to them. They've killed just as many as I have." Astarion scoffed.

"I don't care for their misdeeds of the past. They didn't have control over themselves - and neither did you. Sometimes one act of kindness can change someone's life forever."

"They're fools. They actually think Cazador will save them..." Astarion frowned, hands on his hips.

"I'm glad you spared them." Tar'eon smiled. "You didn't have to. It probably would have done us more good to get rid of one of them, if only to ruin the ritual. But you didn't."

Astarion laughed.

"You sound surprised," Astarion's eyes were full of mirth. "I am capable of doing the right thing from time to time."

"I know you are. Still - I'm proud of you."

"They're no threat to us, and they have no choice but to do Cazador's bidding. I pity them. Worst of all, they don't know their fate is already set. They're doomed." He let out a small laugh. "The only question is whether their lives will be sacrificed to a monster like Cazador, or serve a...greater purpose."

Tar'eon scowled. He knew exactly where this was heading.

"You really can't let it go, can you?" He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Those sacrifices are your brothers and sisters. Are you really ready to doom them for your own gain?"

"Trust me, I'd rather slaughter someone else's family but...if that's what it takes." His words left a bitter taste on Tar'eons tongue. "And it's not like they're sweet innocents; they brought Cazador just as many victims as I did."

"Exactly. And you got the chance to be free of him. Don't they deserve that much as well?" Tar'eon challenged, and Astarion gave a loud sigh. This wasn't getting anywhere. They were going in circles.

"Never mind that. Now that we know he's skulking beneath his palace, we can take the hunt to Cazador. Now let's go. This place stinks of rat blood and despair." Tar'eon frowned and sniffed.

"You're right...I do smell blood." He looked upwards. It wasn't below them, or around them though. It was above. With a bit of sneaking about, they managed to find another room with help from the flower key they found in the temple, and of course, Astarion saw the blood first. The keen senses of a vampire, always drawn to the red stain.

Tar'eon pulled the body out from under the bed and frowned.

"Well...I have a good feeling this is connected to the murders."

"Shall I speak with him?" Astarion offered.

"Do you even know that spell?"

"Well, no, but...I did steal that lovely little necklace a while back from your pack that gives me the ability."

"I- I should have known." Tar'eon sighed and stepped back as Astarion closed his eyes, allowing the power of the amulet to run through him, the body rising. After a few questions, it was obvious these murders weren't just coincidental. Tar'eon swallowed when he heard the man speak of Bhaal cultists. No doubt Orin was behind this. All the more reason to sweep her off the board.

"Well then...I suppose we better talk to that flying elephant detective." Astarion mused. "I should have expected that Orin was going around with her own little murder cult. The woman is unhinged."

"Agreed..." Tar'eon could tell him now. Could tell Astarion the truth. That he had once led the cult himself, that he was a Bhaalspawn, but his throat clamped up shut. He couldn't do it. He was scared to admit it out loud. It would make it so much more real, especially if Astarion knew.

"Let's go speak with them. Then after...maybe we could go for a wander ourselves?" He offered and Astarion's eyes lit up.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"I'm offering to pay for a visit to the tailors." Tar'eon smiled as Astarion laughed, clapping his hands.

"Oh, I knew I kept you around for a reason, darling." He saddled up to his side and took his arm, smirking up at the tiefling. "A new outfit is long overdue, I think. I know just the place; not as good as the Upper City tailors, but close enough."

If he was honest, the nicest things he ever wore were stolen, off bodies or from stores, or hand-me-downs from the favoured spawn Leon. He always got the nicest things - he was pretty sure it was only because he let Cazador sleep with him. Astarion could never go through with it, and he was pretty sure Cazador wasn't interested in him screaming in that sense. Strangers, he could manage, but Cazador? He would have puked on the man before he even undressed.

Most tailors were shut by the time he could leave the palace, so he only ever really got to admire fine fabrics through windows or on others. He had taken up embroidery after ten years with Cazador, so he could finally feel less like a wretched slave and more like a...well-dressed servant. It didn't matter the quality of his clothing; Cazador and Godey would bloody it or tear it eventually anyway. So, fixing his outfits himself had become habit. Now though, he could walk right into any tailors shop and pick the finest fabrics he desired without concern of them getting ruined. Outside of battle at least.

Astarion wouldn't say he enjoyed being on anyone's arm, he was not some damsel or courtesan, but he'd admit, seeing others envy him on the street because Tar'eon had offered his arm to him...Well, it was stroking his ego. Perhaps he was a possessive bastard, but did he not deserve only the finest things after everything he'd been through?

Tar'eon was by far the finest thing around, from what all the staring was telling him. He supposed with how tall he was, it was hard to miss him. Broad shoulders, his horns making him appear even larger and more devilishly charming, the scars on his face telling tales of bravery and battle - he was a hunk. Even if he didn't realise it himself. The slimming magical armour didn't ruin the appeal either.

Astarion hadn't really ever had a type from memory. There had been a few souls he brought back to Cazador that swayed his heart just a bit, but most of the people he brought back had been criminals or wretches, people who wouldn't be missed. They were usually terrible in bed, generally rude, and arrogant beyond belief. He'd been fucked with a blade to his throat or a hand around it more times than he could count. Tar'eon was a delight in comparison.

And he didn't mind that Astarion didn't want to fuck him. Or, well, couldn't for the sake of his mental health. He wasn't in this for his body. For some unfathomable reason, he actually liked him for his personality. Astarion's standards were getting higher, sure, but Tar'eons? They had to be on the floor to entertain dating a vampire with two hundreds worth of trauma and complete disregard of others. Even with their current disagreement on the ascension, Tar'eon did not withhold any affections from him.

It only made sense that he didn't want others to look at his devil. He'd scored something that was rare to come by. Thankfully, Tar'eon didn't seem to be looking at anyone else either. Not even lustfully. He did wonder how long it would be until Tar'eon decided he wanted to participate again in carnal pleasures, but Astarion wasn't sure when he'd be ready for that. Sure, he could suck it up and lay with the man occasionally, if only to keep him by his side, and it wouldn't even be completely horrible. Hells, it would likely be enjoyable for them both, but...he knew he wasn't ready yet. That all the disgust and loathing would crawl up on him the moment they were finished.

He couldn't betray himself like that, and he knew Tar'eon would beat himself up if he knew he was only doing it for his sake. So...he supposed if the time came, and Tar'eon did need that sort of thing, he'd allow him to bed another. He only worried that Tar'eon would discard him if he couldn't give that to him himself. If someone else could give him love and lust, why would he hang on to him, the wreck he was?

"Do you like it?" Tar'eon asked, drawing him from his thoughts. He blinked a few times and turned to look in the mirror. He couldn't see himself, but the outfit he was wearing was...gorgeous. Hand picked by Tar'eon, and suited to a prince from a story book. The suit was white, with golden embroidery travelling down the jacket, the collar high on his throat with lace cradling it to avoid the itchiness of the stiff fabric. To piece the look together was a red cravat.

Tar'eon reached around from behind and adjusted the red fabric, his eyes following his own fingers as he loosened it and retied it so it was straight, fluffing it out. He rested his hand on his shoulders and smiled softly. He wasn't looking in the mirror, but instead at Astarion.

"It suits you."

"I feel very...Lordly." Astarion admitted. "I like it. I just wish I could see what I look like in it."

"Turn around." Astarion rolled his eyes and turned to look at Tar'eon. The tiefling stepped back, standing at the bottom of the two steps, his eyes travelling over his body before closed them. Moments later, Astarion saw himself through the others eyes. The cravat was the exact shade of his eyes, and the white of his suit only made his curls seem brighter. Sunlight from the window behind him shone off the golden embroidery, and he practically glowed.

"You look beautiful." Tar'eon smiled, the connection fading. The back of Astarion's neck burned as he tucked his hair behind his ears.

"Yes, well...When aren't I?"

"Well, I might be biased, but never."

"Good answer." Astarion's eyes twinkled with mirth as he slipped his arms around his lovers neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was one of the rare moments where they were of equal height, if only because he was two steps higher than usual. "I'm afraid I didn't bring any gold with me..."

He pretended to be apologetic about it, looking away like he was saddened he wouldn't get his lovely new suit because of his 'forgetfulness', and Tar'eon laughed, more of a rumble of amusement than an airy sound.

"My treat. It's a gift, ph myirz."

"I do quite like your gifts." Astarion smirked, tugging gently on the ruby dagger dangling from his earlobe. "Careful now. Spoil me too much and you'll be stuck with me."

"Sounds perfect to me." Tar'eon squeezed his waist and kissed him again, lingering for a few moments before he pulled away. "I'll go pay. Don't forget your armour in the dressing room."

"Are you getting anything for yourself?" Astarion queried.

"Not today. I prefer to always be prepared for the inevitable battle." Tar'eon shrugged.

"Oh, come on. We're on a date. You should dress nicely." Astarion chuckled, picking dirt from under his nails.

"You look nice enough for the both of us, ph myirz." Tar'eon assured, kissing his cheek before departing to pay the tailor. It was pricey, sure, but well worth the smile on Astarion's face. He had a lot more gold than he let on. When weapons and jewellery were constantly being dropped at his feet after killing enemies, and books continuing to pile at their camp from the shelves he raided, well...sellers always wanted weapons, jewels and knowledge. They were willing to pay well for those things.

Astarion didn't wait for Tar'eon to offer his arm before he was taking it, an impish smile on his lips as they left the tailors. He stood taller now, dressed regally like he was from the Upper City. If Astarion thought they were getting stares before, it was nothing compared to now. He fed off the envy of the citizens around them, smirking to himself.

"You know what I could go for right now?" Astarion mused. Tar'eon hummed, waiting for him to continue. "A full-bodied red." He purred and the tiefling quirked a brow.

"I have a feeling you're not talking about wine."

"Why would I want that when you're just as sweet, darling?" His eyes gleamed, predatory, and Tar'eons heart skipped a beat.

"Well..." He bit his lip, looking around. "If you can find somewhere a little less crowded-"

"Perfect." Astarion grinned, dragging Tar'eon out of the street and into the shadows, his vision warring between greying out and keeping the focus on the colour of Tar'eons cheeks. He could hear his heart pumping harder, his blood rushing faster in excitement. It made him salivate.

"Are you sure this is-?" Tar'eon began, but Astarion cut him off before he could get consumed by his anxiety.

"The worse we'll be accused of is public indecency." Astarion chuckled as he pressed Tar'eon against the wall of the alleyway, pressing his body to his with a low purr of satisfaction, enjoying the heat that pulsated off his skin. It felt like far too long since he got to tease his beloved.

"As long as you're certain you can talk your way out of it should a guard see us." Tar'eon warned and Astarion almost giggled.

"Might be the highlight of their day - it would certainly be the highlight of mine." Astarion slipped his hand into the strands at the base of his skull, brushing the white ends out of the way of his throat as he guided his head back with a single thumb against his jaw. Tar'eon followed his touch, leaning back into it and baring his throat to his lover with practised ease.

"Good boy," Astarion praised and pressed a kiss to his throat, nuzzling the length of his neck. "You're surprisingly submissive, you know? Considering you look so domineering." He grazed his fangs over his pulse and delighted in the way it jumped.

"I...I like making you happy." Tar'eon tail swayed, brushing Astarion's leg before it wrapped around it loosely. Keeping him close.

"Well, you're doing a very good job, darling." Astarion purred before sinking his fangs into his neck. Tar'eon sucked in a sharp breath at the initial pain, the icy prick mellowing out into a hot sting, Astarion's cool lips soothing the pain away. He groaned softly and closed his eyes, one hand against the wall to keep himself steady, and the other hand on his back as Astarion drank greedily.

The first few gulps were always taken with greed, with fervour, like he was a man who had been dying for a cup of water after a hot summers day. Then, it slowed, the vampire savouring the taste with a low moan, his sucklings feeling more like kisses, smearing blood over his collar and licking up the steady fall as it trailed down his neck. He was being messy with it today, and Tar'eon couldn't help the way his breath caught and his stomach pooled with heat the more Astarion lavished his neck with his tongue.

His hand slipped up his back, cradling the back of his head, and Astarion swore softly against his jaw, nipping at the faintest hint of stubble. Tar'eon tried to keep himself clean shaven, he preferred the look, but the way Astarion nuzzled against his jaw like an affectionate cat made it tempting to let it grow out a few more days. He hissed when Astarion bit down again, higher than before, lapping at the wound. Not even his hair would be able to hide that one.

He had a feeling that was Astarion's goal.

The vampire licked his lips and pulled back, blood smeared across his lips and chin. His eyes were almost black from how blown out they were, licking his bloodied teeth.

"I don't what it is today, but you taste divine, darling." Astarion leaned back in and licked the blood from his throat, a pink stain on his skin, but that wasn't exactly avoidable now.

"I can tell. You bit me twice."

"Oh, did I?" Astarion hummed, playing dumb. "Apologises, my love." He thumbed at the blood on the corner of his mouth and sucked it off. "I'm terribly dirty; do you have a cloth?"

"I do." Tar'eon chuckled and put his pack down, ignoring his less than holy reaction to Astarion's feeding. He was a little woozy, but it was something that could be fixed with a spell later, or a long nights rest. He took out a carter of water and a rag, wetting it and wiping his neck off before he took Astarion's jaw in hand and cleaned him up too. The vampire pulled a face at being manhandled, but allowed it seeing as he just drank half of the man down. He wasn't naive either - he knew he riled Tar'eon up with his frivolous feeding. He wasn't going to say anything though, not unless Tar'eon did.

"There. How you managed not to get it on your new outfit is a miracle." Tar'eon remarked as he chucked the rag aside and put the water back in his bag.

"Well, I can't go ruining my new gift so soon." Astarion chuckled, looking up at the sky. "Ah, it'll be sunset soon. Best not to make the Blade and his wizard worry."

"Well, we found out where Cazador is, what Orin's cultists are up to, got you a new outfit and you had your dinner so...I'd say it was an eventfully afternoon."

"It really was, wasn't it?" Astarion laughed as he led him out of the alleyway. Tar'eon was hoping nobody would remark on the twin pin pricks on his throat, but he knew immediately when he saw Gale, Wyll, and surprisingly Jaheria, that they all knew and were judging him. His cheeks flushed.

"Would you like me to restore your blood, solider?" Jaheria sounded amused.

"Oh yes, it'll serve me well when I go for dessert later tonight." Astarion grinned.

"Your outfit is quite lavish, Astarion." Gale noted. "Did you pay for that yourself?"

"Well, with how much I do for this party? Practically paid in labour." Astarion inspected his nails and smirked at the wizard.

"Our leader is quite generous." Wyll chuckled.

"How did you like the town, Gale?" Tar'eon asked, wanting to change the subject before he became as red as the devil.

"Well, the shops were nice, nothing grand - I think once we get into the city, I'll have much more to explore. I see you two enjoyed your time out, but I'm afraid we were dragged into another battle with shapeshifters, the shifty bastards."

"We met Jaheria while shopping; she was on her way to meet her fellow Harpers, but unfortunately, only one fellow was left after everything."

"I should have expected them to be infiltrated." Jaheria sounded bitter nonetheless. "The boy - I was ready to let him go, but Wyll made some good points. We need all the allies we can get with Red Orin getting her bloody hands in our business. I will tell you more back at camp."

"I leave you lot alone for a couple hours and you pick a fight." The tiefling mused.

"Trouble finds us even without you around, you know?" Gale chuckled.

"Come on. I'm starved - what're you making tonight?" Wyll asked and Gale laughed.

"What do you feel like?"

"Ah, a man after my own heart." Wyll shook his head with a wide smile. "I'll see you back at camp." In a flash of ancient magic, he disappeared, Gale chuckling as he vanished as well. Jaheria gave the couple a nod before following, leaving Tar'eon and Astarion alone.

"Let's hope for a restful night. Especially for you. I know you haven't been sleeping well."

"It's all the usual stuff. Don't worry about me." Tar'eon squeezed his shoulder.

"How can I not?" Astarion tutted and flashed away. Tar'eon huffed out a chuckle and looked over into the distance. He pulled out the poster from his pocket and read over the details. The coronation would be tomorrow, in the Fortress. There, Lord Enver Gortash would become Archduke.

Tomorrow, he would finally face the man who plagued his thoughts and dreams.

Tomorrow, he finally got the answers to his questions.

#astarion x dark urge #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x male tav #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate tav

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swndmehelp · 4 months

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I am very bored so I will be rambling about my dragon age hero’s just because. Maybe just talk about how they get along with each companion. I’ll add a photo or doodle of them so you know what they look like.

It’s all under the cut, I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. I’m so sorry.

Vara Surana (Hero of Fereldan):

My favorite one, if I’m honest. I probably just like her so much because she’s from the first game, and I LOVE Origins. I love all the characters, the story, though I hate to admit it, it’s the only of the three games I haven’t finished. I’m working on it I promise.

Her romance is Alistair (hes my favorite, basic I know). She doesn’t make him king and they live happily ever after. Honestly I just LOVE their romance, makes me all giddy and everything. I have a thing for good relationships in games. I love it when you get Alistair to talk about the Warden in Inquisition and he just talks about how much he loves her and how he wants to make her life easier. I LOVE HIM AHDBDOS.

Anyways, Vara loves all her other companions. She gives Sten his cookies before he goes back to the Qun, a lot of cookies. She’s with Oghren at Ameranthine so she does things often with him. Writes Wynne and Leliana as much as she can. Wynne is her grandma, being raised in the circle she never had a real family (except Irving), Wynne was the group grandma. Zevran probably bothers her as much as he can until she disappears. And Morrigan, uh, idk, she probably doesn’t talk to her until they meet again at the Inqusition.

Vara, uh, she’s pretty decent. She’s probably got PTSD from everything that happened before, during, and after the blight. Her life was a shit show from the start. It just got worse when she became a Gray Warden. That’s probably why Alistair says he wants to make things easier for her, that she deserves that much. (I FUCKING LOVE ALISTAIR UUUUUGGH).

Maya Hawke (Champion of Kirkwall):

Uuugh Hawke, I love Hawke. She’s a goofball up until Anders (spoilers) BLOWS UP THE FUCKING CHANTRY. She is altered man. Part of it is probably because she was romanced to Anders, at first I was doing Fenris then on my second play through, already knowing what was happening I purposely romanced him just for the angst. I forgot to mention I also love doomed romance. Anyways Hawke fucking killed Anders, poof, dead.

I think the only companions she really ever stays in contact with is Varric and Merrill. Everyone else is just gone, done with Hawke and everything else. Given Gameln is her only living family, and he doesn’t exactly like her especially after her mothers death, she doesn’t talk with him. Varric is her bff though, Merrill coming in a close second.

Okay, I know Hawke didn’t get a lot of writing and I’m sorry. (If people are even reading all my yapping lmao). Anyways, Hawke has SEVERE survivors guilt. First her sister died, she got blamed for that by both her mother and brother (though Carver apologized right after and I love him so I’ll never be mad at him for it), the Carver died, she definitely blamed herself for that, then her mother. She probably didn’t leave her estate for a week after her mother died, probably didn’t even leave her room. Then she killed Anders, that was her breaking point. Her guilt took away whoever she was before and just makes her absolutely miserable all the time. I love her, she deserves better (I made everything that happened to her happen to her, I had complete control over it :)) ).

Sorry I don’t have any good photos of Hawke on hand, this is a very old drawing. She doesn’t look like this anymore.

Ayla Levellan (Inquisitor):

Finally Levellan, my absolute sweetheart of an elf. She’s probably the nicest of the three hero’s, trying her hardest (but failing to) avoid violence. If anyone was mean to her she would probably cry, for example when she was talking to Dorian for that quest where you have to talk with his father she says she thinks he should go talk with him and Dorian says, “I didn’t ask what you thought, did I?” Ayla would have sobbed in her quarters right after that, if not in front of him. I’m just happy Dorian apologized right after, I love their dynamic.

Ayla absolutely adores all her companions and advisors. She’s romanced to Cullen (basic again I KNOW), I just feel like they’re a perfect fit. Cullen is so sweet to her and I just feel like they just click. If she were a male inquisitor the romance would be Dorian, sue me.

Anyways. She didn’t let Backwall get killed even after his betrayal, she loves doing pranks with Sera just because. Though she does always feel bad after. She reads the Swords and Shields with Cassandra. Iron Bull tries to train her, she’s always sore after that. Her and Cole running around helping people, her favorite being the time they gave flowers to everyone. She’s terrified of Solas (trespasser messed her up). She’s also scared of Vivienne but for different reasons. Josephine and Vivienne dress her up, like pick her clothes for her everyday, Ayla is Dalish and has no sense of style. I like thinking Vara came to the Inquisition just because I said so, so her, Hawke, and Ayla all hand out.

Dorian and Ayla’s relationship is so dear to me. They’re like siblings, it’s awesome. The whole inquisition feels like some sort of a whole found family trope, more so than all the other games. I just love it. But I love the relationship between Ayla and Dorian, they’re just so dear to me I can’t. And Ayla and Varric’s relationship reminds me of a sort of parent-child relationship, almost like how Varric and Solas are to Cole. Wholesome I know.

When Hawke is with in Inquisition she normally stays with Vara or Varric, they’re tight. Or she bothers Cullen just because. Vara normally stays with Alistair but she also talks with Leliana or Morrigan, also Ayla and Hawke. Really she’ll talk with anyone who talks with her. Though Vara is definitely terrified of Morrigan’s little demon baby, no matter what she will be scared of that little 10 year old boy. She’ll shit herself.

Neither Hawke or Alistair die because I said so, shut up. I love Au’s where everyone lives and is happy.

My Inquisitor is definitely very anxious all the time, but I also like to think (just how I play her and everything) she any be on the spectrum. Just a thought though.

Another old photo, I really gotta redraw these losers omg.

#dragon age origins #dragon age ii #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor #the warden #hero of ferelden #champion of kirkwall #dragon age hawke #sorry for the long ass rant #I love dragon age #special interest #they go HARD

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recurring-polynya · 2 years

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Writing/Art Update 3/14/2023

So. The fanfic.

Man, when I started writing fanfic, I would just think up a story and write it, no plan, only write. It was fun. I think most people write fanfic this way. Anyway, I don't know if my brain broke, or if I just used up all my good material, or what, but the more fanfic I wrote, the more work it takes. I am now a regular outliner, even though I hate it. Anyway, I have reached a new level of Using Things I Learned in English class, in the sense that I think I'm going to actually make a second (third?) draft.

I hate this for me.

Anyway, the upshot is that I've got, like, 90% of the scenes written. There are still 4 that need endings (including the final one), and I think I might need a few more scenes, but I'm not sure exactly what they should be. I have some notes for what they might be. I realized while writing this that the penultimate scene/chapter of a fanfic is often the most important one, and I'm not happy with the one I have, so I gotta figure that out.

In any case, though, the problem I have at the moment is that, partially as a consequence of writing this thing one sentence at a time, is that it's not necessarily coherent. The first thing I need to do is actually read it, top to bottom. Some of the scenes need to get moved around chronologically (I knew this when I wrote them). I need to figure out if this thing has any sort of trajectory or arc to it. If I can do that, I think it will help me figure out what scenes I still need, and how to end the ones I need to end. I am mildly embarrassed, but I think I am going to start yet another doc for this, but maybe if I call it a "draft", it won't be so bad.

I feel like once I get to the other side of this process, I'll have the end in sight and I'll feel a lot better about this thing, but it's very intimidating at the moment. Among the worst writing feelings I have is "there is something wrong with this story and I don't know how to fix it" and I know I have to pass through that valley.

Weekly numbers: Current word count is 15,457 (which includes a few hundred trash words). I guess I didn't write down my exact word count last week, but that somewhere on the order of +2000-2400. I guess that also includes some that were pasted over from the original doc. It doesn't really matter, a lot of those words were hard fought, and I feel okay about the amount of effort I put in this week, especially considering I had other stuff going on. I also wrote 500 words on the spicy fanfic.

I said I was going to draw this week and I didn't do a lot, but I did do a couple of Mike Mignola skull studies. Little P said these were "some cool skulls, Mom", which was nice, since she hated my Menos ("I don't like the hands. I don't like the witch nose. I don't like them.") Anyway, a lot of improvement between sketch 1 and sketch 2 and I finally found an excuse to use my "photocopy error" brushes. Gonna try to do a few more of these, maybe even see if I can manage to do an actual drawing in this style.

Hrrrnnnngggh, did I promise you a preview this week? This would be easier if I had already read the fanfic, the thing I have been dreading.

UGH, brb.

Okay, I'm back, I found one that'll do. If you missed it last week, this story is about the time Rukia and Renji spent at the District 70 Consolidated Shinigami Recruitment Station, trying to get pre-approval to travel north and take the Shin'ou Entrance Exams. The title is either going to be Go Places or Stay with Me, Go Places, I haven't decided yet. Either way, it's after the New Pornographers song that I listened to incessantly while writing this.

They have each been given a set of practice clothing-- sturdy cotton kimonos and hakama. Even though she’s wearing the smallest set Mr. Mochida had, Rukia’s hakama are pulled up under her armpits and still drag on the ground. This is somewhat humiliating.

Renji, on the other hand, looks perfect in his, like whoever invented hakama did so with him in mind. Furthermore, he’s holding an actual wooden practice sword like he died with one in his hands. Renji has been habitually picking up sticks and swinging them around the entire time she’s known him. It is obvious to Rukia that he belongs here, that he was meant for this. His face looks like all his dreams have finally come true.

Mr. Mochida holds his own sword expertly and calmly. “Go ahead,” he says, patiently.

Renji runs at him swinging.

Mr. Mochida blocks the blow, pushing Renji off to one side. He shakes out his sword arm. “Good. Again.”

Renji has no skill at swords, but he has a lot of enthusiasm, and he has a lot of strength. Mr. Mochida doesn’t seem to have even broken a sweat by the time Renji is panting and exhausted, but he claps her friend on the shoulder and tells him he has a lot of talent.

Don’t tell him that! Rukia wants to scream. He’ll be unbearable!

“You’re next, Miss Rukia.”

Renji comes to take her place on the sidelines as Rukia takes up her own sword. It’s puny compared to the one Renji carries, and it’s still too long for her.

“You can do it,” he tells her. “You just have to push part of yourself into the sword, make it stronger.”

She nods, as if that makes any damn sense.

Rukia tries to imitate Mr. Mochida’s stance, knees slightly bent. She contemplates the weapon in her hands. It’s not a rock or a shard of glass or even a shiv. It’s just for practice, but it’s the size and shape of a weapon and you can certainly hurt someone with it. You and me, Rukia thinks at the sword. We can do some damage, you and me.

Push part of yourself into the sword. Maybe that’s not such nonsense after all.

She charges.

#writing update #art update

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bluepeachstudios · 2 years

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you have any possible bonding activities you think the fusions would do in their downtime (that wont spoil the fic, of course)? i think daphy should teach mikey how to make fireworks :) fun explosion instead of attention-drawing property damage explosion

Oh god I could go on a long, long thing about this.

If we're talking about the fun thing that Mikey promised Daphy, I shan't be spoiling what it is they do :x Leo is also involved but yeah it involves fireworks.

Pheo likes just. Being around Mikey and Donnie, the same way he likes just being around Deangelo! He doesn't relax easily, he's almost nearly always in "go-mode" out of habit. Donnie and Mikey help him get into that relaxed place. They like watching movies and Pheo does some teaching by sparring them. He feels most confident in his fighting skills, so that's what he tries to help them with. Mikey especially likes snuggling up in Pheo's arms (as the babiest of brothers with the second eldest of them). Pheo, much like Leo, likes to listen to Donnie and Mikey both talk. He's got enough Leo in him where if you get him on the right subject, he'll also start talking a lot, but that Raph in him makes him horribly shy about doing it, so he needs to be nudged to continue.

Deangelo thinks Raph and Leo are the coolest people to ever exist. He will talk all day to both of them. Leo and Deangelo talking is like neurodivergent communication going on and Raph feels very left out when they do talk. Deangelo likes sparring with Raph a lot! Dea relies a lot more on speed and precision than he does on brute force, so learning from Raph is a nice change of pace. He likes to snuggle with Pheo, too. Honestly I think all the fusions wouldn't mind snuggling with Pheo, but they don't get to meet each other face to face.

Mio plays games with Raph and Donnie and will win at anything they can get him to play (except chess, which is so boring that he gives up about halfway through). He loves reading comic books and watching space heroes and being creative! He's not very good at drawing, but he enjoys it anyway. Mio is the most likely to want to watch a tv show or movie. He'll watch just about anything, but Space Heroes is his absolute favorite. He also loves moving around a lot. Daphy and him hand out and bond by Mio hovering over Daphy while he works. He and Daphy will talk to each other a lot, and though Daphy has a very short temper, he's always exceedingly patient for Mio.

Daphy of course likes to build things. They're often destructive things, but it's because he likes the flashiness, the energy that gets released, having a big impact on something. Daphy's a little hard to get into without spoilers if I'm being honest, but he gets along much better with Mikey than he does Leo, even if Mikey does annoy him sometimes. Leo and him have a bit of an awkward relationship because of Daphy's actions, and the fact that Daphy doesn't treat Leo like the leader. Usually their bonding time is silent but close. They read books next to each other. That sort of thing.

Lonny loves designing things. If Raph and Mikey have an idea for it, he can draw it out for them. They're not always the most realistic designs, but the AESTHETICS. Lonny calms down once he has something to focus on, so usually they do targeted activities with him, like playing a game or watching movies. Mikey likes to lay on him (he is the tallest of the fusions) and Raph likes to spar with him. Lonny tends to freeze up with indecision and Raph gets that, so it's nice and helpful.

Machiel is a SNUGGLER. He doesn't care what you're doin, as long as he can snuggle, he'll be happy. He also wants to DO stuff. He wants to go out and beat up some foot bots or go hunting through the junkyard or go hop rooftops or sneak into a movie theater or something. He and Leo bond by sparring, which is off-putting for Leo because Machiel doesn't fight like a normal ninja should, but it's good practice! Donnie often gets overwhelmed quickly by Machiel, but Machiel asks questions and Donnie's happy to answer.

Machiel and Lonny interacting is another spoiler <3 but as you can see, I went on and this was just simple stuff. Enjoy fusion lore?? :'D

#asks #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fusions #ame talks

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kakusu-shipping · 6 months

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mafia AU for koro-sensei👀

mafia AU: who is the ruthless leader? who is their loyal second in command? give one headcanon about you and your f/o’s relationship in this AU!

-@i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic

Tecnecally I think it'd be Yakuza sense we're in Japan... but also old school Mafia aesthetic my beloved <3

These designs were the most fun I've done thus far, ESPECIALLY Koro-Sensei. Maybe I should draw him in pants more often...

Koro-Sensei - The boss, currently the most wanted man in Japan. Recently though he lost someone very important to him and, in attempting to carry out her final wishes, is attempting to make amends. Now his gang is basically a non-profit. They clean up garbage off the streets, plant flowers in public gardens, help people carry their groceries home, play vigilante at night in areas with low police density, and are all and all upright citizens when you ignore all the crimes of the past. The scar over his eye is fake, he draws it on himself every morning.

Karma - Koro-Sensei's loyal right hand, was kicked out of junior high for picking fights and picked up by Koro-Sensei for his brilliant mind and ruthlessness. He swears he'll follow Koro-Sensei anywhere, and while he thinks this whole cleaning up the neighborhood is stupid and pointless, he'll keep that promise. He still itches to fight, and thus is usually on vigilante patrol. In junior high he never hit anyone who didn't already have it coming, and he is actually rather relieved to be living by those morals again. Koro-Sensei also signed Karma's legal documents to get him back into school, though now he's stuck in E-Class.

Emile - Runs a No Questions Clinic in the neighborhood Koro-Sensei's gang run around in, and is their main source of medical aid. He asks no questions and doesn't answer to cops, making him the perfect place for the mob to turn to when they need help. The only patient to ever pass in his hospital was Aguri, he still dwells on what he could have done better that might of saved her. Sense Koro-Sensei went clean he's had less patients, which he doesn't mind. Koro-Sensei still drops by to chat, and invites him out to local places to eat for fun often.

Nagisa - A student of class 3-E, he's also an amateur detective on the side. He'd been keeping track of the local Mafia for a while now sense suspecting his teacher, Aguri, of somehow having a connection to them. Sense she disappeared he's been hot on the case, along side her little sister, Akari, searching for answers. Karma purposefully avoids Nagisa's questions, and tells him to ask the Boss himself what happened. Koro-Sensei would answer Nagisa and Akari truthfully, but they just can't ever seem to catch him to ask.

Karasuma - Local Police, he's been working his ass off for YEARS now trying to catch Koro-Sensei to put him away for good, just for the bastard to suddenly scrub himself clean of Mafia activity and start acting all Good and Pure by using his wealth to clean up the neighborhood. Something shady is happening, Karasuma is sure of it, and he will not let it stand. He's constantly antagonizing Koro-Sensei, trying to find anything wrong in his actions to bring him in. It never works, and Koro-Sensei walks every time...

Aaaah I've never drawn Karma or Nagisa before so this was fun!!! Loyal Right hand didn't suit me, but Karma for sure follows Koro-Sensei around like a lovesick puppy <3

The original idea was to split the class between Mafia and Police, but they're just kids... They shouldn't be involved in such things... So the majority of them are just regular Class E students. Who's their teacher sense Aguri is still dead this AU? A handful of various Volunteers from Koro-Sensei's gang of course! Various assassins from canon who graciously give their time to teach Aguri's kids best they can. Koro-Sensei's just too busy to do so himself.

#Emile's Arts #Koro-Sensei #Thankyou for asking #Assassination Classroom #Proship Selfship #Just a FEW main tags this time kdgjkdjk #I feel soooooooooooo bad for Akari this AU not only is Aguri dead but she doesn't even know that!!!!#Drawing Koro-Sensei in a pinstripe suit and a lil fedora hat...... He's soooo handsome <3 #Also a Tommygun. For aesthetic.

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conkniving · 1 year

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banner resource. banner edited by @thvnderr

tw: drug abuse, murder/death mention, child neglect

i. the lovers' mask

a tale called the moon's anguish that has circulated anchorage for the past several decades has prompted some young lovers to exchange masks as a promise of devotion. what design would your muse theoretically think fits them?

fallon encompasses the phrase "blind in love" partially because she never knows until it's too late that she had been in love, and partially because she can't see any way out of it. for the better or worse. a perfect depiction of that would be a venetian mask without eyelets. stark white, littered with scratch writing over the entire face of it, containing pop culture quotes and quotes from the person in question — all to guide fallon in her sightlessness.

some might consider them leading a double life if they knew about...

stating something about the bastards is too easy an answer. it's nearly a given, though no one would dare publicly question fallon about her affiliation if they didn't fear immediate retaliation as they should. rather, a double life could be said about the covert addict life. it's easy to hide behind the booze and the pot as just facets of her lifestyle, a cigarette always to adorn the lips. but behind the backs of those she loves the most, tucked in dark corners and walking lonely streets, there's the surreptitious use of coke. and the desire for something more. stronger. intravenous...

what would be their own deal breaker in a relationship? would they die for love or kill for money?

betrayal. most can be forgiven but to stab fallon in the back after she trusted she could bare the vulnerable side of herself is to ensure a swift end to any relationship. and it won't be clean either. but if one were to be lucky enough to get beneath the armour, to touch the flesh and its weaknesses, she would certainly die for love. that's not to say she wouldn't kill for money, either.

they only have enough change for one call at the phonebooth, and someone with glaring red eyes and a spatula is standing across the street. who will they call?

stella, clarifying she only has a couple minutes to pull up before fallon takes care of this herself. or truthfully: sarai. just to let someone with medical expertise know where she is — whether it means fallon's the one who winds up injured or the creep is unclear.

ii. the zeitgeist of the 90's

their favourite slasher film is...

the slumber party massacre series. in general, fallon likes any slasher or horror film — the more b-rated, the better. satisfying her penchant for trashy media, the series is the sort that she can throw on her tv and let play in the background softly as if it's any other vinyl record to another.

in their free time, they enjoy going out and...

thrifting. it's not like fallon has a lot of cash to throw on on non-essentials: rent, food for her and cerberus, the gang, and her drugs. sweet thing grunge looks good second-hand, and she has an amateur hand at repairing an article to her standards. there's a balance of looking dirty and actually being dirty, the latter of which she despises. thrifting at consignment stores is a random activity that might draw the eye of those perplexed to discover her sifting through the racks, and then it starts to make sense. big headphones crowning her head and shielding her ears, a couple hangers draped over a shoulder while she inspects the cargo pants she knows she can dye black in her tub to fit the aesthetic; and if she only happens to find a shirt or belt she likes, it's easy to slip it on as part of the outfit and no one is the wiser.

a fashion fad of the times they adore that their friends would despise is...

the spiky space buns hairstyle. even a singular bun, as long as it's got straightened ends that jut out as if they're truly sharp, fallon will wear them despite the fact it's not exactly "hard" of her to do so.

how often do they order delivery from peppy's pizzeria? have they ever seen the walls ooze green slime in the pizzeria or the animatronics move on their own during their time in anchorage?

often. fallon doesn't like to cook unless it's easy and there's not enough in the budget to splurge on something more than dehydrated packets of ramen. peppy's subpar pizza is perfect as part of a hangover remedy or a pick-me-up after a long day that's become day. and due to those occurrences that often warp reality ( and not to mention the years of drug use ) fallon has caught movement in the peripheries that she chalks up to her own psychosis and paranoia playing tricks on her.

when they believed in christmas, were they told krampus would pay them a visit for being on the naughty list?

christmas wasn't a fixture in fallon's household even after they moved stateside. the whole knowledge of krampus came from fallon's own delve into folklore in high school, satiating that need for the dark and gritty, and was the whole inspiration for her own snowman she entered into the contest simply because she thought it would be funny to include something grotesque among the adorable entries. what she does believe in? karma. and it certainly divined exaction on her for that act since the krampus snowman had been "stolen" and implicated with the new year's atrocities. in a way... did krampus pay a visit for fallon's naughtiness?

what tall tale or superstition were they told as a child that still gives them the heebie jeebies?

when fallon first heard about w*ndigos. something about cannibalistic fiends morphed of humans prowling in the wilderness all across the world frightened her terribly as a child. even now, when she looks out into the woods from the motel, she can envision a twisted creature staring back, hopeful to devour her heart.

iii. the curse of the spider

are there family secrets or so-called curses that haunt them? ones that are known publicly or follow them figuratively?

until recently, fallon never spared another thought about her parents since she had moved out more than a decade ago. not as though they ever attempted to contact her either. which was fine, but perhaps she would have hoped they cared enough to tell her that the debts they left unpaid for so long had begun to catch up to her. haunting her now, both in the relationship it destroyed and the paranoia that she were to be snatched up at any moment, is the price of her head for her father's sins.

which of the seven sins would corrupt their morals?

wrath. that blind fury. it could turn her against every virtue she holds dear, the very people she would never want to lay a hand on. it wouldn't let go until she blinking back to awareness and she's left with the aftermath of her own possession.

the world remains the same for decades now. is ignorance bliss? or is there the shaky sense something is amiss that can't be ignored?

ignorance is bliss. fallon doesn't care ( or doesn't even realize ) that the world doesn't appear to have changed in an abnormally long period of time.

dreams are often influenced by the subconscious and sometimes distorted. in their deepest, darkest nightmares, how do they view themselves?

like a kicked dog. that she will never amount to anything more. that her time will come and pass, and no one will have noticed. utterly forgettable. unlovable.

iv. the crooked frame

what is their death wish? the perfect crime was constructed and someone else took their place. how did they originally die?

fallon is largely unaware of her own imposter. and she hopes that when her due is ready to be collected, that it goes swiftly. a bullet to the back of the head. dead before she hits the ground. originally? she had already been her parents' collateral once. a test subject sold off to wipe the slate clean and rid themselves of a burden. only, she came back... and different. wrong.

the muse couldn't be the one behind the tunnel of love outage because when the power went out, they were...

fucking stuck in there. the bruises on her waist indicate the fervor in which she escaped the metal confines of the ride trying to bar her there.

what would they consider their calling card?

haphazard drawing of a spiky, feral rat. in the dirt. in graffiti. in blood.

those with intermediate technical skills have used cracks and vpn's to improve the internet connection, but anything post-dating the 1990's is only accessible through the dark web. has the muse ever accessed the dark web? have they used it for any nefarious means or to purchase services?

fallon has never personally accessed it with her complete lack of technical skill. but she does have contacts, and therefore, been able to use the dark web for personal and work purposes. some jobs have been completed in order for some quick cash to supply the bastards, and she has been able to stock up on paraphernalia through these means.

#anchortask02 #yes i suck at graphics sldkfsjdf #thank you lis for saving me <3

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opalescent-cheetah · 9 months

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for the writing asks.. 19, 26, 33 ?

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I actually still remember the first story I ever wrote! I think I was around six years old? And I was at home, feeling kind of bored because my parents were busy, so I sat down with a few sheets of paper, some markers, and wrote a little picture book about this owl called Mrs. Owl (original, I know) who was looking for her friend Katie. My dad (who also writes) was SO proud of me and I think I've been riding that high ever since tbh. I went from Mrs. Owl to a detective series about my cat (think the Thea Stilton series but with anthropomorphic cats) and then to warriors fanfic, and it's just gone on from there. The most major bump in the road has been my fibromyalgia, which causes brain fog and fatigue like you wouldn't believe 💀 Initially I wanted to be an author as my career choice, but I've had to let that dream slide because the brain fog makes it too difficult to read and write as much as I would need to as a full-time writer. Writing as a sort of side-hobby is still super fun though, so I'm not really unhappy about where I'm at. Just hoping to get on top of the brain fog + fatigue so I can give y'all more updates 💪

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

Honestly I'm not too sure! For some characters, like Shenhe or Crystal Methyd, it comes pretty easy because I already relate to them on some fundamental level, so I just draw from myself and my own experiences. For others, I try to relate them to people I know or admire (I very much connect Nicky Doll with one of my best friends, for example), or I just go off on a tangent in my discord server, analysing the characters' behaviour, voicelines etc to get a better grasp of them. I've had to do that for Rosaria in particular quite a lot, lol. I find music also helps, if I can find songs I think they'll relate to (I basically had Promise to Try, Oh Father, Voices and Inside of Me (all by Madonna lol) rotating in my head when I was writing Shenhe's scenes in the early chapters of Destiny)

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I draw (and should be animating bc that's like. what i'm studying. but I don't do it much lol) and play bass as well! Occasionally I also dabble in cosplay, painting denim, sewing etc but not so much nowadays. I'll occasionally sketch stuff from my fics but other than that there's no connection between my writing and my other hobbies :,0 admittedly though, when I don't know what to draw, I'll often fall back on drawing Shenhe and/or Rosaria 😂

Tysm for the questions inkats!! 💖

#asks #ask game #inkats

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flowercrown-bard · 2 years

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2.5k (I just found this in my drafts from forever ago. I don't remember writing this do no idea if I posted it before. Also I titled it "pigeon" so a assume I might have written it for @constantlytiredpigeon?)

Geralt wasn't attractive. It was a fact he was too well aware of. It was hard to forget such a thing when people constantly shot him looks of disgust or even recoiled at the sight of him.

All except Jaskier. He never flinched, though sometimes Geralt found him staring only to avert his eyes quickly once he noticed Geralt looking back at him.

It shouldn't hurt. It should be enough that Jaskier didn't seem to mind his looks all too much.

That didn't change the fact that Geralt's insides twisted uncomfortably whenever Jaskier turned away.

Geralt had never been a vain person, it would have been of no use and only led to disappointment, but the longer he knew Jaskier, the more he wished his eyes would linger and see something other than what Geralt was. He wanted Jaskier to look at him and see something he could love. It was a foolish and naive hope. People like Jaskier - beautiful, with shining eyes and so full of life - didn't fall in love with people like Geralt - ugly, with eyes that were either black or yellow and with the constant promise of death looming over them.

As if that knowledge hadn't been enough already, Geralt was forced to witness time and time again just how little chance he had of Jaskier ever seeing him as beautiful.

For years, Geralt hadn't been aware that Jaskier had a type. He had always seemed to admire everyone's beauty equally. To him it had never seemed to matter what colour someone's eyes were, how they were built or a million other things other people would have preferences for. Jaskier loved everyone equally. Almost everyone.

But lately, Jaskier had developed a preference, one that made Geralt's chest clench and his hands ball into fists.

It always happened when Geralt thought that things were going well, when they were laughing together and Jaskier was leaning into him. More often than not, Geralt would catch himself drifting towards Jaskier, for a heartbeat believing that he would be allowed to close the distance between them and press his lips against Jaskier's. He remembered himself just in the nick of time and pull back again, hoping desperately that Jaskier hadn't noticed, that Geralt hadn't overstepped.

But without fail, Jaskier's face would suddenly fall. He would draw back and stutter some excuse, before he left to find other company. Better company. Company that made quite clear that Geralt could be the last person Jaskier would ever make advances towards.

Because the people he chose to talk to, to touch and kiss, couldn't have been more different from Geralt.

Pale blue eyes, where Geralt's eyes were too intense and too sickly on colour. Soft edges and bellies where Geralt's muscles were hardened to an unnatural degree. Dark and short hair where Geralt's hair was pale as bone and long.

Before all this had started, before Geralt's heart had cracked with every person Jaskier spent the night with that was so contrary to Geralt, he could have let himself believe that maybe there were some features of his that Jaskier might even like.

Often, Jaskier had leaned against Geralt as if he liked the feel of his muscles. Without thinking, he had run his hands through Geralt's long tresses as if he enjoyed touching them as much as Geralt loved being touched by him. It made him almost feel wanted. It made him yearn for more. For caresses, for soft looks and whispered words telling him that he was good enough for Jaskier just the way he was.

But now, there was no doubt left in Geralt that Jaskier couldn't be less interested in him.

That knowledge didn't stop him from wanting. Geralt knew that Jaskier would never love him. He was too gruff, too quiet, too beat down by the world. No, Jaskier could never like him the way Geralt admired Jaskier for who he was.

But maybe... Maybe if Geralt looked different, if he looked like someone Jaskier could desire, he could at least have a part of him. Maybe he could have kisses and caresses and a hungry look in Jaskier's eyes, even if only for one night. It wouldn't be enough. It never would be, and yet, of there was even the slightest chance of Jaskier wanting him in any way, Geralt would do everything in his power to take it.

Except, how was he supposed to become someone Jaskier could look at like that?

The mutations had altered Geralt's body permanently. He couldn't risk losing his muscles to become softer and neither did he have enough money to add a layer of fat to his body. Changing the colour of his eyes was impossible without a glamour, and yet again, he didn't have the coin to pay for such a thing.

The only thing about his appearance that he really could change, was his hair.

The thought churned his stomach. Of all his mutated features, his hair had been the one thing he had come to like. Not because of the colour, but because he was able to wear it in the same style that Vesemir had worn his hair when he had told Geralt that he belonged to the witchers now, that he had a new family.

But then again... It had been years, decades even since he had become part of this family. He no longer needed the reminder that they wouldn't leave him.

Jaskier though... Geralt could never be sure when the day would come that Jaskier decided that he had enough; enough inspiration, enough nights spent on hard forest floors and enough of Geralt.

And when that day came and Geralt hadn't done his damnest to at least get a taste of what if felt like being wanted by Jaskier, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He would stare into mirrors and curse the person looking back at him, the person that hadn't been good enough for Jaskier.

He couldn't let it come to that. He had to at least try.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to put a pair of scissors to his hair. Days and weeks dragged on and Geralt's resolve crumbled time and time again, only to flare back up whenever Jaskier's eyes would search for someone who looked nothing like Geralt.

If Geralt wasn't so loath to fight humans, he would almost call it a streak of luck when he found himself cornered by a bunch of thugs one afternoon. He had just come back from a contract, hoping that Jaskier would be waiting for him at the inn instead of being in another's arms when the group of menacing looking man approached him.

Geralt didn't pay attention to what they said. He was used to sneers and being spat at. He was used to steel being drawn against him.

The fight should have been over mere seconds after it began. It should have taken Geralt no more than a couple of heartbeats to end this. And yet, he found himself drawing out this fight.

It was a spur of the moment decision, so reckless and spontaneous that he didn't even register what he was doing until he felt the blade of his foe almost graze his neck.

Long tresses flew through the air in front of Geralt's face and for once he wasn't able to just shake his head to get them away again. He stood almost in shock as the cut hair fluttered to the ground.

He barely heard the hollering of the men as they taunted him. His blood was pumping hotly and a smile that bordered on hideous stretched his face.

Again and again, he let the blades come dangerously close to his head and every time he saw more of his hair fall to the ground, a surge of euphoria hit him.

This was it. This was finally it. No longer would Jaskier look away from him in deisinterest.

When he saw Geralt, he would be stuck by how different he looked. How he looked a little closer to beautiful.

The excitement of getting to see Jaskier's reaction, made Geralt finish the fight quickly and he hurried back to the inn, not stopping once to look at his reflection in windows.

If he had, he would have seen how utterly uneven and unkempt his new haircut was.

If he had known what he looked like now, Geralt would have frozen to the spot, regret and shame washing over him. Possibly, he would have turned tail and fled the town to live in the woods until his hair had grown back to an acceptable length.

Now though, he didn't stop to think of such things. The only regret he had was that now Jaskier would no longer be able to braid his hair absendtmindedly.

But it was worth it. If this worked, if this makes Jaskier look at him it would have been worth it.

And, oh, did Jaskier look. Or rather, he stared. When Jaskier opened the door to the inn room and took Geralt in, he didn't waste a single second, before pulling Geralt into the room with him. Geralt could hear the way his heart stuttered and for a brief, wonderful second, he thought that this was it. This was finally the moment that Jaskier saw someone in him that was worthy to be looked at. For the first time, he could be someone Jaskier might enjoy looking at.

That hopeful and almost giddy thought lasted only for a heartbeat. Then something shifted in Jaskier's expression.

His face turned into a mask, carefully blank, betraying not a single emotion. That alone was enough for dread to pool in Geralt's guts.

Jaskier was always expressive.

"This is fine," Jaskier said and his voice sounded mildly horrified. Firmer, he repeated. "This is fine. We can fix this." He grabbed Geralt by the shoulders and gave him a look so intense that something inside Geralt's chest jostled. "I promise, I won't let you go through this alone."

Geralt didn't know what to say. All of his words had dried up the second the cold realisation had crashed into him that something was going very, very wrong. Jaskier hadn't pulled him into the room in eagerness, but out of shame to have anyone else look at Geralt. Somehow Geralt had messed up again.

He let Jaskier push him down on a chair, before he left to rummage through his bags, pulling out a brush and a pair of scissors.

When he came to stand behind Geralt again, he took a deep breath.

"Geralt," he announced, "just this once, I will be the one to save you."

With surprising softness, Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair. It felt different than it had before. No longer did he feel the nice tug of Jaskier brushing through his long strands but surprisingly, it was no less nice. Jaskier scratched more now, almost massaging his scalp. It made Geralt close his eyes and sigh in contentment, almost forgetting the worries gnawing at his heart like a wolf would on a bone.

Jaskier spent achingly long on this tender ministration, before he truly set to work.

Geralt had expected him to complain, to maybe even break out into laughter, if Geralt truly looked as horrible as Jaskier had made it seem, but Jaskier worked in quiet concentration, as if there was no task more important than saving Geralt's hair.

Geralt would have wished for him to at least hum as he worked, but he contented himself with focussing on the feeling of Jaskier holding him with one hand to keep him steady, tilting his head gently whenever he needed him to move.

It wasn't like a kiss, not even like a caress. Certainly, it was nowhere close to holding Jaskier in his arm, but as Jaskier rounded him, his sole focus on Geralt as he cut the hair at the sides of his face, Geralt couldn't help but think that this moment was achingly intimate.

"There," Jaskier breathed at long last. A soft smile titled his lips upwards as he brushed some stray hairs from Geralt's cheek. "Now you're beautiful again."

"Again?" the involuntary word was more croaked than spoken, strangled and disbelieving.

A blush crept over Jaskier's cheeks and he turned away.

A painful sting shot through Geralt's heart and his hand shot out to cradle Jaskier's face and keep him from looking away. Just this once, Geralt was selfish enough to ask Jaskier to keep looking at him.

And Jaskier looked. With an expression on his face as if he never wanted to look away again. He looked at him as if he were beautiful.

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. "Well, yes, you see, the way you looked just then couldn't in good conscience be called beautiful." His lips quirked up and he shoved Geralt playfully. "You know I love you, but with that uneven and shaggy hair you for once looked like and actual wolf."

Jaskier's words caught up to them at the same time. Both of their eyes widened, but whereas Geralt froze, Jaskier tried to scramble away.

Geralt caught his hand, stopping him from leaving. His heart was hammering in his chest painfully, but he had to know. If this had just been a joke, Geralt had to know. Then at least he'd still have the memory of the way those words hand sounded coming from Jaskier's lips.

"Jaskier..." His voice was hoarse. "Did you mean it?"

It wasn't a question, it was a plea.

Jaskier's throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Of course I did," he said quietly. "I wouldn't lie to you, never about something like this."

Jaskier must have seen something in Geralt's expression, for suddenly, the hint of vulnerability left his eyes and was replaced by a glint of mischief. "I truly mean it when I say your hair looked horrible."

He let out a little laugh that took Geralt's breath away.

He couldn't think. He just surged forward and tasted Jaskier's laugh pressing his lips against his desperately.

Immediately, Jaskier's hands found his shoulders and wandered up until it tangled in his now short hair.

The sensation was new, thrilling and Geralt couldn't get enough of it.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Jaskier had to stifle another laugh.

"Your hair's all messed up again," he snorted and reached out to smooth out Geralt's hair, trying to save what would surely be destroyed again in a matter of minutes.

Geralt leaned into the touch and let out a low hum.

"I don't mind." His eyes twinkled and he let his hands wander to Jaskier's shoulders. "But your doublet is full of hair now."

"As it is on your shirt. The white really shows on the black."Jaskier let out a mock-despairing sigh. "Oh woe is us. Whatever shall we do now?"

A sly smirk tugged on Geralt's lips as he said exactly what Jaskier all but begged him to say. "Guess we'll just have to get rid of our clothes then."

Immediately, Jaskier's fingers started to fumble with the buttons on Geralt's shirt and tugged it free. "Let me help you with that."

It didn't take long for both of their hair to look like messes. Neither of them minded.

#Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #My writing #Fic #Fanfic #Witcher #The Witcher

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miekasa · 3 years

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Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it.

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby.

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad.

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on.

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying.

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside.

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place.

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone).

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way.

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for.

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch.

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés.

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this.

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it.

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well.

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program.

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do.

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk.

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes.

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to.

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye).

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester.

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other.

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand.

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right.

#anonymous #when.... when.... WHEN IS IT MY TURN #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot imagines #no because he's the love of my whole life #jean fluff #jean smut #eren x reader

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