#I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to try living again (Astarion interacts)

[baldurianrogue]

Ships :

@bloodedhearts - 『 i'll weep wondering what happened to my mad love 』 ⟶ cassandra x astarion. ; 『 did i mistake you for a sign from god or are you really here to cast me off? 』 ⟶ shadowheart x astarion.

@sharransepulchre - 『 no shadows no reflections here; lying cheek to cheek in your cold embrace 』 ⟶ shadowheart x astarion (shadowstar). ; 『 and the hole is where the heart is; we built this tomb together i won't fill it alone 』 ⟶ shadowheart x ascended astarion.

@luposcainus - 『 i’ve been dead in the ground for long enough; it’s time to try living again 』 ⟶ caspian x astarion.

@thxwxlf - 『 burning in a hopeless dream hold me when you go to sleep 』 ⟶ kekipi x astarion.

@darlingdesiredelicious - 『 if i was your vampire; certain as the moon we'll have each other until the sun  』 ⟶ sebastian x astarion.

@iron-hearts-ablaze - 『 world hard and cold; you soft and warm 』 ⟶ karlach x astarion (fireblood).

@ourwrittenstories - 『 i'm learning all your tricks i can hurt you from inside 』 ⟶ sable x ascended astarion. ; 『 the accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name cried from your lips 』 ⟶ alfira x astarion.

@infernalapparatus - 『 do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? 』 ⟶ karlach x astarion.

[coreofgold]

@vcndetta for Freya

"Freya, is it?" Astarion asks, silver hair perfectly quaffed and dressed in a regal outfit from Baldur's Gate. "If it is, it appears I am your blind date."

[cxrdycxps]

Apologize • Abby Anderson

☢️ Canon typical violence • shitty friends • graphic depictions of injuries • AFAB reader • size kink kinda • Abby is huge • strap sex • thigh riding ☢️

Abby Anderson Masterlist • Main Masterlist

“I mean, I feel like we may be ignoring the elephant in the room?” You leaned back on your chair and looked around at the people gathered there. “Like realistically you all have to be thinking what I am?”

“Would you like to share?” Abby asked, her arms crossed and her glare leveled at you. “Seeing as you seem to be the only one who knows what you’re talking about?”

One glance at the others assured you that she was wrong. You weren’t the only one who knew. You were the only one brave enough to say it. Mel and Owen were avoiding your look and Manny was straight up staring at the wall.

“You want to travel for weeks, during winter, on some half cocked tip that the guy you’ve been looking for, for years, might be there? And you want to round us up to do this for you?” You asked her, voice growing in volume. “You’re asking us to risk our fucking lives for you to play executioner?”

“You don’t have to go.” Abby sighed, brushing you off. You hadn’t been part of the inner circle for long. Mostly because of your antagonistic relationship with Abby. Owen usually played mediator but right now it seemed he had given up that role. “Just leave now.”

“Abby, I’m gonna say this slowly. I’m going to tell you what we’re all thinking.” You stood from your seat, well aware of Abby’s strength and her abilities. You only had speed on your side if she decided to attack you. “Your dad was going to knife up a thirteen year old girl.”

“He wasn’t going to fucking knife her up.” Abby snapped, taking a threatening step towards you. “He was trying to save everyone.”

“There was no grounds for the studies.” You told her, taking a step back. “I’ve read them. I read every single page of what he had written. It was more than likely going to be a learning curve. He wrote that himself!”

“Joel Miller shot my father in cold blood.” Abby spoke through gritted teeth and you huffed a sigh, sick of the same rhetoric.

“Joel Miller shot the man threatening his little girls life. He felt that same rage you feel now. That little girl was obviously his world and your father was willing to take that from him.” You told her, stepping back again slowly. She was inching towards you. “I know why your dad was doing that. He was a good man Abby. But Ellie was just a child. She didn’t even know what they would have to do to her to get a chance of a chance at a cure.”

“I would’ve done it.” She told you and you saw your opening, grabbing at it with both hands when her shoulders sagged.

“I would have too. But I would never have let my child do it.” You told her softly and she relaxed her jaw before clenching it again. “If it was Owen or Mel or Manny, would you let someone unknowingly kill them?”

“We would’ve-” you held a hand up to Manny, silencing him.

“Would you let them do it to your father?” You knew Manny’s father was a sore spot for him and he fell silent again. “Joel did his duty as a father to Ellie. You heard Marlene’s tapes. You know what he felt for that girl, what he had lost before. He couldn’t do it again Abby and no one should’ve asked him to.”

“It would’ve saved the world!” Abby yelled, arms out wide. You winced and stepped back again. She was a formidable force to be reckoned with and you knew your odds were low if you even tried.

“It might have. It might have just been a dead thirteen year old on your father’s hands and a guilt he would’ve never absolved.” You told her and you didn’t even have time to throw up your hands to protect yourself. She closed the distance in two steps and threw a punch.

You took the hit, head snapping back. Owen stepped in at that point and you held a hand up to your throbbing cheek bone. “She’s not wrong, Abby. You know I loved your old man. But she’s got a point.”

You could feel the swelling starting, your vision blurry from the eye that took the hit. You couldn’t brush off the tears but it was more from the shock of the impact than the pain. “I would want to kill him too. I would want him to suffer for every moment I had to grieve. But you can’t do to Ellie what he did to you. He had a damn good reason.”

“It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Mel stood, coming to Abby’s side. “We know that Abby. Knowing why he did it might make it hurt all the more. But this is the wrong path to take on. Vigilante justice won’t fix anything.”

“It’ll fix me. There’s a giant gaping wound in me. This will fix it.” Abby’s voice had lost the passion. There was no anger now, just a hollow echo of it. She had lost her fight.

Mel left Abby’s side to check on your face. She pulled your hand down slowly and winced at what she found. “Can you see?”

You didn’t know if you could or not. The eye had begun to swell, your lid barely opening. There was a trickle or warmth down your cheek and Mel’s hand came away bloody.

“Killing Joel won’t heal anything in you.” Your whole jaw ached to talk and you wondered how she could do so much damage with one punch. “It will only make that wound worse. You’ll have no one left to pin the root of your grief on.”

“Come on, let’s get you out of here before she stomps on your head.” Mel sighed, gripping your elbow tightly and leading you towards the entrance to the aquarium. “Good luck explaining this to Isaac.”

“Don’t suppose I can tell him I walked into a door?” You asked, your voice tight with the pain that was setting in heavy.

“Not unless that door was shaped like a fist. I can see each individual finger.” Manny tried to lighten the mood, his voice coming from behind you. You could hear the others talking with Abby and you hoped they would find a way to keep her off the ledge.

“You’re braver than I am.” Mel muttered quietly when you were far enough away from the main group. “I thought no one would say it.”

“You’re all at fault here. She’s been letting that fester for years and you just allowed it?” You asked, wincing when your words muffled. How big were Abby’s hands? Your mouth felt swollen. “You let her focus on that so she wouldn’t focus on you and Owen. Cause you thought she’d never find him.”

“That’s not entirely fair. She drove Owen away.” Mel snapped and you would’ve rolled your eyes if you didn’t think you’d damaged one of them irreparably.

“Into your open arms.” You sighed. “She needed a support system more than ever right at the moment you all let it fall apart.”

///

There wasn’t much to be done at the infirmary back on base. The swelling would go down in a few days, you could see light through the barely there slit when your eyelids where pulled aparet by probing fingers. It meant you probably weren’t blind or permanently disfigured. You did have a headache that seemed to be entering migraine territory.

Mel guessed at concussion on top of a stable fracture to your cheek bone. You knew she was probably right but it didn’t stop you leaving the infirmary and sneaking back to your room, dodging the questions from well meaning colleagues.

You had expected the knock on the door a lot sooner. Mel had been gone on break when you ditched the ward. You thought she would’ve come looking for you right away.

You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed. Your head felt so heavy that it hung forward and took effort to straighten up again. You massaged your temple gently, mindful of the bruising. When the door opened though you flinched and stepped back. Abby was standing there with her arms crossed.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of you and retreated back a step, letting her arms fall limply to her side. You were aware of how you looked and you knew it wasn’t pretty.

Abby didn’t speak. She stared at you, starting from your feet up to your face. Watching you as if she could catalogue your injuries through observation alone. And who knows, maybe she could.

After what felt like hours of staring you blinked your one eye that opened right now at her and held the door open further. She looked from the door back to your face and shook her head, stalking back in the direction of her own room that she shared with Manny.

You stepped out into the hallway and watched her go before shrugging and returning to your room.

///

The days that followed were hell. You didn’t know pain until the following morning when you rolled over as you were waking up and lifted a hand to rub your eye.

You hissed and then winced at the stiffness in your jaw. In the bathroom your mirror told you everything you needed to know that the throbbing in your skull hadn’t told you. You looked way worse, the bruising taking over half your face. You almost swore you could see her imprinted hand like Manny had joked.

Everything hurt and every movement pulled against it. You showered and the water pressure hurt your bruises. Opening your mouth wide enough to brush your teeth made you actually cry. Pulling your hair back even managed to make the pressure in your skull build so you had left it down.

You were pretty sure chewing was out of the question and you had no doubt you were going to have to make a pitstop and beg for one of those good pain injections you knew Mel had on hand.

Isaac had taken you off duty while you were recovering and you were more than grateful for that fact, donning a hoodie and pulling the hood up to cover your face from prying eyes.

Mel wasn’t working in the infirmary that morning but Nora offered a pain injection and some calorie packs to be dissolved in water. You shoved them in your pocket and sat still when she jabbed you with the pain relief.

The canteen happened to have soup on and you grabbed a bowl to take with you, returning to your room to wallow in your own pain and misery. You wondered again how one person could have such strength in them.

Late in the evening a knock came to your door. You opened it, expecting at least one of your friends to visit. Instead it was Abby. You didn’t flinch this time but she did, looking you over again. You opened the door wider again but she only made her observations and left, stalking down the corridor out of sight.

///

The pattern of your days continued this way for the first week. Mel and Nora allowed you three pain injections but you didn’t bother taking the fourth, just accepting calorie packs and retreating to your room.

Abby visited very evening, looked you over and then left. Every evening you offered for her to come in to your room. Every evening she turned on her heel. You were kind of getting used to watching her walk away.

Not for the first time in your life did you wish she was in some way queer. What you would give to climb her like a tree. But unfortunately her only relationship had been Owen and the rare times she had slept with anyone since it was always a man.

Not for lack of women trying. She had shot them all down stating she was in fact straight. It had probably caused more of the antagonism between you both as a means to keep yourself from getting hurt.

On the tenth day your eye was able to open all the way again. You didn’t seem to have any damage to your vision which was a lot more than you had expected if you were being truthful.

The swelling was going down in your face. It still hurt a little to chew and you hadn’t been speaking all that much but you’d soon be fit to return to work.

That evening you waited when Abby knocked instead of answering the door right away. She shifted for a minute, stepping closer to the door and further away again before knocking a second time.

You opened the door but turned away before she could look at you, returning to your bed and pressing play on the movie you had put in just before she arrived. “If you’re coming to have your nightly stare then you better come in and do it.”

Your voice was more of a croak and you had to clear your throat twice to get the words out. It was just from a lack of use because opening your mouth still hurt.

Abby lingered outside your door for a few seconds before she stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind her. There was no light on in the room but you knew the tv was bright enough to show her what she wanted to see.

“Looks better.” She spoke for the first time since you had left her in that aquarium. You hadn’t expected her to but it made for a nice change.

“It is better. No lasting damage to my eye, the headaches are gone and I can open my mouth again.” You didn’t tell her it hurt to open your mouth. She didn’t need to know that. “Just need to be careful with pressure or impact to my cheekbone. It’s a stable fracture right now but any further damage will need surgery.”

Abby flinched in the darkness, almost standing by your bed now. You didn’t look at her, not directly. She hesitated, hand reaching out and dropping back again. “I’m-”

“You can put the clothes on my desk and bring the chair over. Manny sent this movie up for me to watch. He knows I’ve always liked these movies.” You huff and hold the box out to Abby who took it from you. It’s one of those movies that leave you with more questions than answers. You have to ask the older people in the compound about certain elements of the movie and get them explained to you.

Wild Child came out in 2008, a whole five years before the outbreak happened. Watching how teenagers experienced lives back then gave you an understanding of what had been lost.

Abby sets the movie box down and moves to lift the pile of clothes from the chair and place them on your desk as instructed. The opening scene of the movie begins and you focus on it.

///

You woke alone the clothes back in a pile on your chair and the television switched off. An extra blanket had been placed over you and you didn’t have to ask why with the temperature of the room. Winter had landed in Seattle.

Your bruises were fading, mostly just the point of impact a weird shade just off your usual skin tone. The swelling had also receded and while opening and closing your mouth caused stiffness, it didn’t really hurt that much.

Nora’s probing fingers still made you wince in the infirmary, indicating the fracture wasn’t healed enough to let you back on active duty. Something she reiterated to Isaac who ordered you take a few more days. You didn’t argue with him even though you wanted to. You knew better than that.

That night you and Abbey watched Pitch Perfect. Another movie that left you with many questions. You had a fascination with high school and college. You would’ve been facing all of it right now had nothing happened.

Right as the movie ended Abby whispered your name. You pretended not to hear her, letting your eyes fall shut to see what she would do. She eased herself from the chair quietly and moved it back to its place. The weight of a second blanket landed over you again.

Most surprising was the delicate stroke of her finger over the point of impact her fist had made almost two weeks beforehand. “I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t let her say it. Interrupting her each time. Neither of you talked besides you telling Abby what the movie would be called. And her aborted attempt to apologize each time.

///

“Boo fucking yah, baby. Back and better than ever.” You swung yourself up onto the bed of the truck and slapped your hand down on Manny’s shoulder. “Get the fuck out of my seat, big man.”

Manny grunted but shifted over to the passenger side. Owen and Nora hauled themselves up onto the bed of the truck, Alice taking her place at their feet. “How are you feeling?”

“Nora, thanks to your excellent care I am a new woman.” You pumped your fist before revving your engine and tearing out of the compound as fast as you could with shouts of complaints from the others. “I’m so fucking excited to be outside that I think I’m actually high off fresh air.”

“You’re fucking crazy, is what you are.” Manny laughed from the passenger seat as you raised a gear and hit the road, swerving around abandoned vehicles. “You know people used to just drive all over the country and call them road trips? They’d just drive all day. For fun.”

“None of them ever drive with you. Nothing fun about it.” Owen called and you rolled your eyes at his withdrawn tone. You didn’t like Owen all that much. Mostly cause he had what you had wanted and had given it all up. For Mel. A downgrade if you were being honest.

“Shut up, Owen. She’s enjoying freedom and still having sight in both eyes.” Manny cheered and you pumped your fist again. “Both hands on the wheel!”

The patrol had been successful, scouting warehouses further out of the territory the WLF owned. There was great rewards in an old movie rental place and you even got to take down two runners.

When you returned the keys to the truck and your weapons you found Abby waiting at the door to the canteen, arms crossed. She barely spoke to Owen or Nora, slapping her palm to Manny’s when he held his out. She gave you the typical once over you had grown so used to.

There was no longer evidence of your injury. Your cheekbone had healed, you were as loud as ever and yet Abby still visited your room every night to check on you.

“I didn’t know Isaac approved your return to active duty yet.” It was the most she had said to you in a month and you froze in place like a scolded child.

“Last minute decision he made this morning. The others needed an extra set of hands and Nora signed me off two days ago.” You weren’t sure why you were explaining yourself. Or why you were so nervous when Abby stepped closer to you. You didn’t retreat though, not this time.

“How did it go?” She asked quietly, another step in your direction. You swallowed your nerves when she entered your personal space, the tip of her boots barely a hair’s breadth from yours. “See any scars or infected?”

“Um, a few runners. Nothing major.” You told her and she smiled blandly, her hand raising to your face. You flinched minutely and she froze but you moved closer, granting her permission to touch you. Her thumb soothed the barely these scar from where the impact of the very hand that she was being so gentle with right now had split your flesh that day.

“What’s on the watch list tonight?” She asked softly. You were too lost in the caress of her thumb to answer her and she chuckled, letting her hand fall. “You hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” You blinked at her and she laughed again, lowly so that only you would hear it. She took a step back and you snapped back to the present instead of floating above your body. “Oh, uh. I found the fourth Harry Potter movie. So now we’ve the full set and can watch them.”

“Eight movies to watch.” She hummed and you nodded. “That’s a lot of time spent together.”

“Mhmm.” You nodded and she laughed at how distracted you clearly were.

“I’ll see you later then.”

///

You knew how it looked. It looked bad. It looked desperate. It looked like you were the unluckiest bastard on this earth. It looked like you were an idiot.

A knock sounded at the door.

It looked like you were out of time.

Abby let herself into your room while you stood frozen with your back to her. You heard the steps she took and then how she paused a little away from you. Your shoulders tensed and she took another step closer.

“If you wanted me in your bed that bad you only had to ask.” She laughed quietly and your shoulders relaxed. The broken chair no longer an omen of all things bad. You had been standing on it while changing a lightbulb and the leg had given up.

The chair had been old when you had gotten it. That had been years ago. You weren’t surprised just more annoyed at the timing. “I was changing a lightbulb.”

“Is that right? You get it changed?” Abby asked as you turned to face her. Your breath hitched. It hadn’t been warm in months in Seattle. Especially not on base in the concrete rooms without insulation.

But there Abby was in a tank top and sweatpants like it was the middle of summer. You wanted the ground to open and swallow you now because you knew you’d embarrass yourself.

Her shoulders and arms were bared to you, the muscle definition making you feel physically faint. You wanted her to pick you up and toss you around. You were half tempted to piss her off enough that she’d punch you again.

“Well, did you?” You blinked at Abby for several long seconds before realizing she had asked a question. One you hadn’t heard because you were too busy wondering if there was a position that would let you grind on her bicep.

“Did I what?” You asked her, shaking your head. She looked up to the lightbulb and back to your hand. It was an empty socket and you had two bulbs in your hand. She held her hand out to you.

“Give it here.” You handed the new bulb over and she reached up, just barely stretching herself and slotted the bulb in. You reached out for the switch and grinned when the light came on just to turn it back off. It was too bright for movie night.

“You’re handy to have around, you know that?” You asked her with a smile and she laughed at you. You kicked the broken chair out of the way and crawled into the inner corner of your bed.

“I’ve got plenty more skills where that came from.” She assured you while you arranged the pillows. When you turned to look at her strained voice you found her staring at you. Or well, your ass.

You pursed your lips and tucked yourself into the corner of your bed, hitting play on the tv. Abby only hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the bed and kicking her shoes off.

She leaned back against the headboard of your bed, one long leg stretched in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Her muscle definition was apparent through her sweatpants and you wanted to ride her thigh so bad you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from saying it.

This pattern continued for the length of the eight days it took to watch Harry Potter. She sat the same way each night and each night you watched her thigh and her arm closest to you more than you watched the movie.

As per tradition at this point, Abby would say your name at the end of the movie and then usually tuck you in except this time she didn’t say anything when the credits rolled and you realized she was asleep.

You wanted to wake her, let her go back to her room. But she was fast asleep and she had slid most the way down the bed that she wasn’t going to hurt herself to sleep in that position. You turned the movie off and turned your back to her and let her sleep.

///

Warm. It was so fucking warm. Your body was melting, you were almost sure of it. You blinked your eyes open and groaned quietly. Was the compound on fire or something? What was with the heat?

Your body froze at the huff of breath against your neck. Abby surrounded you right now and you could feel her all over. She had managed to spoon you during the night, your head pillowed on her bicep, her other hand wrapped around your waist. Her big hand rested on your sternum, right between your breasts and you couldn’t help the pulse of arousal.

Her face was tucked up against your neck and her steady breathing let you know she hadn’t woken yet. So you did the cowardly thing and relaxed back into her hold, letting yourself enjoy it.

You drifted off to sleep again apparently because when you woke Abby was shifting around behind you but hadn’t actually moved away yet. “What time ‘s it?”

Abby froze when you spoke but you felt her twist to look at your clock. “Uh, early. Almost eight.”

“Got anywhere to be?” You asked, your hand moving to stop the slow retreat of her arm around your waist. She froze again and you waited for her to make a decision.

“Not until twelve. I’m headed out with Owen and Nora.” She was whispering right in your ear and you couldn’t help the shiver.

“Mm, you’re heading out with me, Owen and Mel.” You corrected her, shuffling back into her hold. “It’ll be fun, me and the love triangle that hates me.”

“Hates you? Does it look like I hate you?” Abby asked and you hummed, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then go back to sleep, Abs.” You huffed and she laughed against your neck, tightening her arms around you.

///

“Owen, get out of my passenger seat right the fuck now.” You pulled yourself up onto the bed of the truck and Owen looked panicked. Mel shared his look and you stared between them. “What?”

“Abby is coming with us.” Mel told you quietly like it was a secret. “We weren’t aware that you were driving.”

“I know Abby is coming?” You looked between them, confused. “That’s why I want Owen out of the passenger seat.”

Abby arrived on the scene and pulled herself up, looking between all three of you. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“We didn’t know you two had been cleared to work together.” Mel spoke up against the silence and you laughed. “She shattered your cheek bone, it’s a viable worry.”

“Firstly, it was a stable fracture. It’s all healed up and I’m not saying I deserved it but we all know why I got it.” You slotted yourself into the drivers seat. “Besides, Abby apologized.”

“Apologized?” Mel asked, dubious. Owen moved from the passenger seat, his eyes narrowed between you both as Abby took his place.

“That thing that neither of you ever did after screwing around behind my back?” Abby asked and the truck fell silent. You bit your lip to hide your smile before starting your engine.

Mel and Owen took their seats quickly and you tore out of the compound with a whoop and an accompanied bark from Shadow.

The patrol stayed quiet, moving from building to building in silence. It was driving you up the wall. You kept Shadow with you, moving around each room, checking for anything that might be of use.

“Think they might hate me as much as they hate you now?” You didn’t jump when Abby spoke but you did have to fight the urge. You turned from where you were rifling through a cabinet to find her leaning on the door frame. She took up the whole door way and you salivated just a little.

“Nope. Because you only repeated what I already called them out on.” You told her, returning to your cabinet which just seemed to hold old office supplies.

“You called them out on sneaking around behind my back?” Abby asked. You could hear her walking closer as you tossed decaying reams of paper out of your way.

“Mhmm.” You hummed, stuffing some markers in your bag. There were still in the packaging so you had high hopes they hadn’t dried out yet. She stopped behind you, you could feel her body heat.

“Why would you do that?” She asked and you shrugged, shuffling sideways to the next cabinet, she followed you. “When did you do it?”

“Like five minutes after you broke my face.” You shrugged and found bags of rubber bands that had all eroded with age. You tossed them all aside before standing up. You still didn’t turn around but you knew Abby was close behind you. She pressed closer when you were straightened up.

“Why would you come to my defense right after I had hurt you?” She asked, her large hands coming to rest either side of yours on the counter top. She was flush against you, her size difference almost overwhelming.

“Because no one ever seemed to come to your defense.” You told her honestly and you felt her huff a laugh against your hair. One of her arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you back tight against her. “I figured someone should.”

“Thank you.” You knew you probably weren’t imagining the barely there kiss to the crown of your head but a low growl from Shadow had you both spring apart.

“There’s something in here with us.” Abby muttered, loading her gun. You copied her actions and backed away from the door, maneuvering to the left of it while Abby took the right so you could both see either angle.

Whilst you and Abby had never gotten on, you were flawless patrol partners and it was evident in how you both worked, taking out two runners and a clicker with enough time for you to be sitting on a table, legs swinging and Abby to be thumbing through a magazine so weathered she couldn’t possibly be reading it.

That was how Owen and Mel found you both and they shared a look between themselves at both of your casual displays and the pile of infected between you both.

“Everything okay?” Owen asked cautiously. You looked up at him and smiled, hopping off the table. “Any injuries?”

“Nope. I got one runner and Abby got the other two.” A fact she was annoyingly proud of and you were irrationally bothered by. “You did good, Abs. I might let you be the little spoon tonight.”

Everyone in the room froze but you and Shadow who followed you out past a frozen Mel and Owen toward the truck. Soon the other three followed you, Abby slipping into your passengers seat. She was fighting a smile so you knew you weren’t in trouble with her.

///

You had gotten so used to Abby letting herself in that you had kind of forgotten that she did it. So when you stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel on and found her sitting on your bed, you didn’t really know what to do.

She gave you the usual once over before smiling at you. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was mean. Something that made your stomach fill with nerves and a wet pulse start up between your legs.

She was sitting on your bed, both legs stretched out in front of her. She patted a hand to her lap and you stared at her, incredulous. “Come on sweetheart, we both know you want this.”

You moved towards her hesitantly and paused a few steps from the bed. “You came early.”

“I did. I was hoping to talk about that little spoon comment but right now I don’t care. Sit on my lap.” It wasn’t much of a question, not the way she phrased it. You swallowed roughly again, looking back to the bathroom.

Abby wouldn’t hurt you. She also wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to retreat right now. You knew both of those things to be fact. The truth was that you didn’t want to retreat. She knew that.

It was an awkward shuffle getting onto her lap but that’s where she took over, maneuvering you so that you were straddling one thigh, one hand on her shoulder for balance and the other holding your towel together. “You don’t think I know that you’re watching me all the damn time?”

“I thought, I didn’t think you were into women.” You told her, suddenly shy in the face of this abrasive, domineering Abby. She only huffed a laugh and shook her head.

“I’m not. Never have been.” She told you and you froze in place, unsure where this was going. She bent her knee, her thigh tensing and you couldn’t help the moan, falling forward so your face was in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “I’m sure as fuck into you though. I don’t know what it means but I know what I want to do about it.”

“Abby.” You whispered and her hands landed on your hips, pushing and pulling you into a slow grind against her thigh. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. I’m gonna fuck you.” She promised. When your hips had taken the rhythm she found acceptable her hands began to move. One travelled up the length of your back, up your neck, to cup the back of your head, holding you in place against her. The other tugged your towel free. “Gonna let you hump my thigh first like a bitch in heat. Then I’m gonna get my fingers into you, see how tight your little hole is.”

You whined against her neck, the friction of her sweatpants and the heat of her words had you burning up. “Please.”

“Yeah, you’ll beg me so pretty. Cause once you come on my fingers I’m getting down there to taste you. Cause I know you’ll be the best fucking meal I’ll ever have.” She groaned in your ear and your hands travelled to her biceps, your nails digging in. “And once I’ve done all of that? I’m gonna fuck you with my strap.”

“You, where’d you?” You were barely able to get your thoughts together enough to ask her about the strap. “Why?”

“Just cause I wasn’t fucking women doesn’t mean I wasn’t fucking anyone.” Your head tipped back when your breathing sped up. You lost the rhythm on her thigh just bucking against her as your orgasm washed over you. Abby leaned forward and the harsh bite of her teeth made you scream. “Not over yet, Sweet Girl. Just getting started.”

///

“Abby, Abby, Abby.” Every stroke of her cock had you chanting her name. She had you on all fours, her large hands on your hips and pulling you back on her forcefully. You weren’t sure if you knew words other than her name and please. She had fucked it all out of you.

One hand slid from your hip up your front and with a hand around your neck she pulled you up so your back was flush against her chest. Her grip on your neck was loose but you felt your breathing hitch. “Oh you like that.”

Her hand tightened around your neck and you gave in entirely, your orgasm washing over you and your mouth falling open in ecstasy as Abby wrung every last drop of pleasure from your body.

She pushed against you, friction from the strap driving her towards her own orgasm as she humped against you desperately. She some how managed to control the fall after coming so that you were both on your side.

“Thought you wanted to be the little spoon this time?” You asked her breathlessly and she huffed a laugh from behind you.

“Thought I fucked that attitude out of you.”

[angtious]

"I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to try living again.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Does the little Hero need a hug?" "No, fuck off"

Quickly, the hero’s head jerked back to the body on the ground.

Their hands were still shaking, their breath still something they had to take control over again. Frantically, their brain searched for a protocol they could follow, some kind of procedure or advice, something, anything that could save the situation.

“Ouch.” The villain leaned over their shoulder like a curious child. They seemed to study the body until they spat out a diagnosis. “Ohhh, definitely dead, yeah.”

I am going to jail, the hero thought. Panic gnawed on them relentlessly. I am going to jail.

The villain approached the body until they were close enough to kick it with their foot. Not really impressed, they cocked their head.

“Shame. I thought they had some potential.” They looked back at the hero and something in their face softened just a bit. “Your first body, I presume? Don’t worry, it gets easier.”

“Gets easier?” the hero croaked. They could feel tears run down their cheeks, their nose clogging up. It hurt, everything hurt.

“The offer still stands, I can give you a hug.”

“I don’t want a hug,” the hero said, their voice trembling. With a bloody hand, they went through their hair a few times. This couldn’t be happening. The hero wasn’t a killer. God, they wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“You know that person-” the villain kicked them again “-was a criminal, right?”

The hero couldn’t see, they couldn’t think.

“Oh God,” they whispered. “Oh God.”

“They weren’t going to show you any mercy,” the villain said. “You defended yourself.”

“No no no no. This isn’t right, I didn’t…I couldn’t have— I wasn’t trying to kill them.”

For a moment, the villain didn’t say anything. They stood there and stared at the hero who was so ashamed that they had to turn away. The hero couldn’t control the tears, couldn’t control the sobs. It was difficult enough to be out here and fight every night.

It was difficult enough without the villain showing up unwanted and making fun of them every now and then. It was enough to punch people the hero didn’t know because of agendas that didn’t align.

They hadn’t noticed it but this had bitten chunks out of them for a long time.

“Okay, listen.” The villain’s hand found the hero’s shoulder. “Things like this are unavoidable when you do this job.”

“No, it shouldn’t be…it can’t be, fuck, I thought — I really thought I—”

“Deep breaths,” the villain instructed. They stood in front of the hero now. They were calm, collected. No mocking. No jokes. They’d done this before. “Don’t turn around again. Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

The hero nodded, wiping tears and snot away. They didn’t know what had come over them. They hadn’t cried in years. But then again, this was probably way overdue.

“That’s good. Keep breathing.”

“I’m fine, I…what are you doing?” The hero looked them up and down, ready for something but after that outburst, they were tired enough to call it a day. Or better, a night.

“I heard you were around, so I thought I should check out what you’re doing,” the villain said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why do you care?” the hero asked, trying to put as much disgust into their voice as possible. After all, this was the villain. However, it didn’t really work out for them. Calming down from an almost-panic-attack was just as tiring as living through one.

“You snapped out of it pretty quickly, I’ve never seen that before.”

“I’m fine,” the hero insisted. They wiped the last tears away and took in a deep breath. What had just happened?

Only now, they realised that the villain was still holding onto their shoulders. With one movement, they brushed them off, heading towards the exit of the abandoned building. What was that? They had sent people to hospitals within minutes, they had always been efficient and quick.

They had expected any reaction to an enemy getting killed but this one?

Their head hurt. They wanted to go home. Fall into bed.

Shit, they hadn’t cried in years.

“Hey.” The villain grabbed their arm before they could escape. “That was just the tip of the iceberg, wasn’t it? You have quite a lot bottled up, don’t you?”

The hero dared to look into their eyes and they got so uncomfortable by this confrontation that they wished to walk into the ocean and never return.

Because the villain was right. Maybe. The hero tried to remember but the last years seemed very foggy.

“Christ, what happened to you?” the villain asked but not even the hero could really remember.

[shadydruid]

February - December

✨️I’ve Been Dead In The Ground For Long Enough. It’s Time To Try Living Again✨️

Renewed Astarion Card is ready! Do you think it looks better now?

[behindthesoul]

Hello!

Getting back into MK I was wondering how would Kenshi, Johnny and Raiden react if they were told that S/O had gone missing on Mission possible dead, and after a few days their s/o shows up bruised and snapped up but live?

Missing Mission

Masterlist

Warnings: bad injuries, hospitalization, alcohol mentions, not proofread, not my highest quality work

Kenshi

Silent and brooding.

One could practically feel the anger that seeped out his bones. If looks could kill, everyone in Kenshi’s vicinity would be dead; not many would risk their lives by making direct eye contact with him, even though they’re covered in red cloth.

Saying he was pissed off would be a complete understatement. The two of you had been together for about three years now. Kenshi thought of your future together daily - what do you mean it’s being taken away?

In quiet moments alone, Kenshi thinks about where you could be. You must be so scared, so alone, so injured…that is, if you were even alive. He chokes back tears at the pain of not having the closure of knowing what happened to you.

Weeks later, Kenshi’s semi-adjusted to his normal routine. He grieves you daily, but it’s mostly kept inside. He arrives home one day to feel that something’s off; something isn’t right. Sento in hand, he walks through his house, trying to figure out what was happening.

He eventually makes his way to the kitchen where you sat. You nurse a glass of whiskey and smirk.

“Took you long enough to get here. I’ve been waiting all day.”

Kenshi freezes, he doesn’t know if it’s truly you or if this is just some sick joke. You get off the chair you’re in, grunting in pain as your feet hit the ground, and walk over to him. Kenshi knows everything is real when your hand reaches over to caress his face.

He frowns as he feels a bandage wrapped around your hand. His frown morphs into a scowl after he leans over to plant a kiss on your lips, noting how you slightly wince from a small bruise that was planted in the area.

He pulls back and doesn’t know what to say. His breath is a bit shaky and his mind is racing. Words couldn’t explain the anguish of your disappearance, and the joy of your return. Kenshi wishes he could see you again, to be able to get a proper look at your injuries.

Your pain is temporarily ignored when you kiss him again.

Johnny

Uncharacteristically silent. Panic sets in almost immediately. I feel like Johnny would blame himself just a little bit. He already fucked up one relationship, why did he let another slip out his hand? What’s wrong with him?

Days turned into weeks, and Johnny spent each moment wallowing in pity. The pity soon becomes bitterness; no one could recognize who he was becoming.

It’s not long before Johnny forces himself to at least try to return to his normal self. He goes back to being the life of the party, cracking jokes left and right. Though, many notice that his jokes become more dry and lifeless.

He spends a lot of time outside. Home just isn’t the same anymore; it’s devoid of any love and laughter. Johnny only arrives home to sleep, only to feel his heart break once again as he crawls into an empty bed.

A month or two passes before Johnny gets a sudden call. It’s from the hospital, telling him that you’ve been found and-

Nothing else was heard. Johnny immediately raced to the hospital, possibly breaking several traffic laws in the process. Whoops.

He rushes into the hospital and finds your room in record time. Johnny feels his body getting heavier at the sight of you laying in the hospital bed, beaten and bruised. He couldn’t even begin counting the amount of injuries you had. Walking over to your bed and taking your hand in his, Johnny allows a few tears to fall.

You’re home, but you’re not okay.

Raiden

Quan Chi and Shang Tsung had escaped from their prison cells in Sun Do. Liu Kang sent you to Outworld to track them both down. You went alone, as Liu Kang had full faith and your abilities. He also wanted this mission to be completed as quietly as possible; the sorcerers would no doubt flee if they heard many Earthrealm champions were after them.

Your boyfriend didn’t hear about your mission until you already left. Raiden, just coming back from a mission of his own, was a bit upset that he didn’t get the chance to at least say goodbye.

He kept himself busy while waiting for your arrival. He hung out with Kung Lao, ate at Madam Bo’s, and spent time at the Wu Shi Academy. One week, you’d be back in one week. He could handle that.

But a week quickly became a month. Raiden definitely panicked but did his best to ease his own nerves. Lots of deep breathing and redirecting any negative thoughts that try to plague his mind.

Jumps into hero mode when Liu Kang confirms that you’ve truly gone missing. Helps plan an entire rescue mission and plans to find you alone. Liu Kang has to reel Raiden back to make sure he isn’t getting himself into trouble.

Along with a few other allies, Raiden travels to Outworld. He is met by Mileena and Kitana who assist with the search. Millions of thoughts of you being dead run through his mind and he, once again, forces those thoughts away.

The search only lasts for a few days before you’re found near a swamp behind Shang Tsung’s old laboratory. You set up a temporary shelter there so you could nurse your injuries; broken ribs, deep bruises and gashes, and a sprained ankle.

Raiden lets out a huge sigh of relief and rushes over to you. He hugs you as firmly as he can without hurting you more. Raiden looks into your eyes and shows a small smile.

“Just when I thought you were lost forever.”

Mileena and Kitana have you escorted to the palace infirmary where you stay until you’re fully healed. Raiden stays with you the entire time, making sure you never lift a finger.

[coreofgold]

Astarion flicked at the bloodstain with his tongue before pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. "Yes, right. Thank you." He dabs at it. "A good one can lead to some spillage, shamefully enough." He mused.

@hiddenstarters

"you've got a little something just there." audrey chuckled as she gestured to the spot on her own face, her eyes locking with whatever it was on the others face "have you got it, or should i help?"

[coreofgold]

@mvsicinthedvrk for anyone

Astarion clicked his tongue quietly as he read up on Washington D.C. laws and history. What better way to get used to this place than to brush up on its laws before he breaks the ones he finds silly. "Just like home. . ." He mutters to himself. Perhaps he can become a magistrate here. . .how ironic would that be.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 4 - She Doesn't Know What She's Done

The rogue is not jealous. Well, maybe a little.

On AO3.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Astarion has never drowned. Cannot drown, technically speaking. Yet this feels eerily similar to how he’s imagined doing just that.

His leader ducks into her tent and her little beastie chirps and trills. She bids Astarion good night, and lets the flap fall closed. He’s left to stand there as his lungs fill with something thick, his insides grown suddenly heavy.

Consider herself well and truly taken?

Oh, he’s said lines much like it many times. More than many: a well-placed “I love you” with a soft face and a voice tightened by feigned desperation? Not enough to alarm, but enough to entice? Pretty stories of devotion, how he’s never felt this way before but having laid eyes upon whatever unfortunate idiot he’s selected that night. Uses it on the foolish sweethearts when he’s in the mood to be selfish.

This should be no different. Is no different, other than the duration. His current darling is no mayfly night of passion. He’s had to work hard, be patient to finally draw her in and secure his prize.

He’s never kept a prize, however. It was never his prize. Now he’s caught one, and he has to…do something with it. Keep it. She’d been getting skittish again. They’ve gone too long without him reminding her why she ought to keep him close. And with the rest of their merry band of fools about, she won’t need to rely on him as she did in the Underdark.

(Why does that almost…hurt?)

He should be grateful he needs to do less than usual. Yet the way she looks to the others now. That protective flintiness to her gaze. He’s…jealous. And he ought to be! None of them were around to watch her back (figuratively speaking) and steal her away from a band of drow. None of them kept her provisioned, or shared their tent, or watched over her (sort of) as she slept.

Yet here they are, expecting her kindness as if they’ve earned it.

As if he’s…

But he has secured her. And tomorrow, he’ll give her a reminder. Show her what his hands or his lips or his body can do for her. He’s won, godsdamnit. This is satisfaction tightening his chest.

For now, he should reverie while he has the chance (grim though that task is). He turns. And spots the cleric staring, not even trying to disguise her eavesdropping. She lifts a single, judgmental eyebrow.

So he puts on his best simper and tucks himself into a theatrical bow. Then ducks into the privacy of his own tent. That no longer carries his leader’s warmth or her scent.

He’s not jealous of the little furred beast.

***

The doors of their decrepit sanctum screech almost as badly as Petras when Godey’s feeling particularly energetic. Astarion has to join the cleric in covering his ears until the tortured things are finally wrenched wide enough for them all to catch a glimpse of this shadow curse.

The heaviness already plaguing him plummets to a new low.

Outside was once a wood. Tall trees, green grass, probably bouncing bunnies and frolicking fawns.

What greets them now is beyond dead.

“I’ve seen corpses more lively than this place,” he says. “And I don’t mean my own brethren.”

Eleanor winces with her entire body. Even her beastie shuffles closer to her legs. She reaches down, thoughtlessly, to scratch the animal’s head. Astarion wonders where he might stash such a creature after he’s drained it.

There is no sky. No horizon. Twisted trees, rotted black, the bark split like a days-old corpse to show decayed, hollow wood. Barren ground, save for clumps of something writhing and twisting slowly in the gloom. He has an inkling that walking into that would be a terrible idea.

“Do we have more torches?” says the druid.

The large elf looks grimmer than the dead landscape. Astarion has seen sad eyes—he’s quite drawn to them, usually. A sad mark is an easy mark. And the druid looks rather like a beggar who’s had his last coin swiped by a pickpocket.

Astarion leans in close to his leader. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if our venerable guide simple keeled over.”

Realizes immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Because Eleanor is soft when she’s not a terror, and now he’s drawn her attention to a wounded baby bird, of sorts.

Damnit.

“Halsin?” she says.

The big elf pulls back into himself. Offers what she probably sees as an encouraging, if slight, smile. Says, “It’s alright.”

Only Astarion is drawn to those, too. Can spot the crack along that smile, and the festering beneath it. Sorrow. Shame, perhaps. The druid wouldn’t stand out in a lower city dockside tavern, four cups in and mooning for some lost love.

He uses his cantrip to light a spare torch when his leader glances his way. Let her see his magic (he’s learning magic) is as potent as ever. He even hands her that torch. Doesn’t imagine (he hopes) the way her face softens as she takes it.

Good. Focus on him.

They head out, into the gloom. The shadows immediately swallow them. Astarion is used to shadows. Has something of a love/hate affair with them, really. They’re quite useful for slinking about when he’s drawn unwanted attention. When that bastard let him out of the kennels as prey rather than lure. But being confined only to the shadows, even when he doesn’t want to be…

Their tiefling flares hot. The orange glow in her chest burns, mechanical heart brightening as the vents along her arm spit sparks.

“Anybody else feel like we’re being watched?” she says.

Dearest Eleanor is close enough he could reach out and brush her ear. Which he does not do. Her gaze flicks about, a nervous bird finding no safe perch.

“Usually, I’m the one stalking the shadows,” he says. Her gaze lands on him for a moment. That’s it. Look to him. Draw her in. “I can’t say I appreciate being on the other end.”

“Stay within the light, whatever occurs,” the big druid says. As if his bulk doesn’t take up nearly an entire circle of said light.

Something moves in Astarion’s periphery. Too fluid to be a living thing, too solid to be a spirit.

“What the fuck,” his leader says.

The mist around them swirls into tendrils, into claws reaching for them. They stop at the edge of the torchlight and curl back into mist. Things move within—small sounds, scurrying sounds. Odd, dry clicking that makes Astarion think of hated bones scraping along joints as a skeletal face leers down.

He turns to make some remark, only to find his leader curling in on herself, teeth beginning to chatter. He feels nothing but the usual touch of undeath. On a lark, he sticks his hand out, brushes his gloved fingertips through the mist, and it feels like the grave. Waking in the dark, lungs creaking, kicking and thrashing and something was wrong, wrong, wrong why was he in a box oh gods, gods—

He hisses. Pulls back.

“Careful,” the druid says, as if her were an errant child. “The curse lies thicker than I’ve ever seen it. I wouldn’t expect it to pass over even you, Astarion.”

“Because I’m so charming?” he says.

“Because you’re a corpse that doesn’t know better,” the cleric says.

He should bite her.

But now she’s frowning and reaching out. There’s something in the road—if he’s being supremely charitable with that word—ahead. She makes a small sound, takes a step towards it. A step outside the light.

“Shadowheart,” the wizard says, the first strain of tension pulling at his voice.

But the cleric stands there, looking at her hands, down over her body. Turns back and there’s a look to her eyes he’s seen before, on the wretches and idiots drawn to that bastard’s mansion of their own accord. The desperate and deranged come to prove their service in return for the gift of immortality.

Astarion manages to not to bare his teeth at the naked fanaticism shining through their cleric. Barely.

Beside him, his leader’s face has turned to stone.

“It doesn’t affect me,” the cleric says. Brushes one of the reaching hands of mist. Her touch passes through it like it’s nothing but colored festival smoke. “It must be my lady’s protection. She must love me still.”

Familiar again. He’s heard that in other voices.

In his own.

Disgusting.

“Ugh, the rest of us our trying to keep our breakfasts, if you don’t mind,” he says.

To his surprise, it’s the gith who swipes back. “You did not feed this morning. Or last night.”

He can’t help it. Instinct and armor all at once, and the flirting slides down, over his face. “Oh, are you offering, my dear?”

“Touch my neck and you will not even see me strike your head from your shoulders.”

He turns to his leader. “Mmm, I do love spicy food.”

But she’s looking at the cleric—now examining the pile of rags in the road. A long-withered skeleton in faded, rotting armor. Apparently it’s a “dark justiciar” according to their cleric, who sighs wistfully.

There’s something very peculiar to the way his leader watches this. Not quite hostile. But more than focused. It’s close to the face she wears when she’s plotting a murder, except…no, that’s not correct, either.

The cleric is taking up entirely too much of Eleanor’s attention. That won’t do. Not at all. He needs to be her primary focus, not their delusional Sharran.

The group eventually moves on. Astarion lets himself drift back. Waits until he’s nearly out of the light. The skull of the dead fanatic stares up at him. The face is halfway crumbled, though the teeth are all there, shiny and yellowed.

He brings his boot down right through where the nose would have been. Crushes the thing to powder.

When he looks up, Eleanor stares.

“Ah, clumsy me,” he says. “Shall we?”

He needs to get to her tonight. Refocus her. Keep that tether tight and strong.

Note: No update next Wednesday, possibly not on next Saturday either. I'll be back by 1/8/25 though.

[arabaka]

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸ sfw. fluff + angst for the birthday boy! spoilers for chapter 236. 736 words. while i don't mind ageless/minors interacting with my sfw posts, do NOT follow if you do not have your age in bio.

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. author's note ⤸ maxine voice from russian doll: sweet birthday baby!!! i had this sitting around in my drafts and honestly been going through it so... we love-self care. also peep the httyd quote B)

He’s already seen everyone else (Suguru, Nanami, Haibara, and Yaga) but there’s still some unfinished business for the strongest, the ill-fated, Gojo Satoru.

After all, it’s a long known fact that Gojo Satoru really died when you did.

“Well,” Gojo stands, dusting off his uniform pants, “Gotta go.”

“Leaving so soon?” Geto asks with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah. Got a date, ya’ know.”

Of course, you’d reunite at an airport terminal of all places. The staple location for every cheesy rom-com movie, where the twist is that both lovers are dead.

What can you say; spending even just a few years in limbo will round out the humor in you.

But it’s also perfect, in its own way. How many rom-coms did you watch with him that had this exact scene in them? How many times had you recreated those corny, predictable scenes anytime you had to travel with sincerity because between the two of you… One couldn’t really live without the other.

Maybe there really is something to this airport effect.

You’re both running so fast, desperate to leave all the time you spent apart in the past.

Gojo sweeps you off your feet, somehow staying grounded on his despite the boom of excitement between the two of you. Your giggles make him giggle and it’s like you were never apart.

When you kiss, he remembers what it felt like when he really had someone to keep living for. 

The memories don’t stop there: a dam of his own making cracks under the pressure before splitting apart entirely. It still hurt to reminisce on those times you shared, even after all those years it never got any better. But with you back in his arms, the experiences have been returned to their original glory. Their original joy.

He can see them all so clearly. 

The look of annoyed disgust you gave him when you met as first-years at Jujutsu High: he never did let you live down your initial distaste for him and you never let him forget why you gave him that look in the first place. But it sure as hell didn’t stop you two from sneaking off to make out when you should have been practicing.

The gleam in your eyes when he told you I love you for the first time: you had cried right after and had him thinking he did something wrong but you more than made up for it when you tackled him to the ground, sobbing “I love yous” right back. 

The warmth of your arms when he’d wake up screaming the nights following the first time he’d lost Suguru: he never could thank you enough for giving him such a perservering comfort.

He’s seeing it all: graduation, birthdays, holidays…

A flash of you and him in the bed you shared, in the apartment you two called home, and the night he proposed… How you said yes before he could even finish the sentence.

And that's where it ends because you'd be gone before the two of you could even announce your engagement.

Gojo never loved after you, didn’t even try to find someone else because no one could ever come close to you.

Now here you are, in his arms again… Where you belong. He kisses you over and over again with the fervor of a man starved, Gojo desperate to reacquaint himself with the way you taste and feel.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me.” You tease, arms looped tenaciously around his neck; you aren’t letting go this time.

“Pft- You? Never, baby.” His lips skirt yours, “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Gojo makes you laugh. He always could.“I think I have an idea.” You chuckle, your eyes crinkling as you smile.

“Let me look at you.” You both say at the same time, falling in love with each other all over again. 

With an air of remorse and his pretty blues saturated with sadness, Gojo whispers, “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” His heart still aches like it's become a muscle memory. “I should’ve–”

“Hey.” Your hands firmly grasp his face, “Stop that.” You give him a good shake with that determined look in your eyes he's longed for all these years. “We're together again. I don't know for how long or what comes next but… For better or worse, right?” 

“For better or worse.” Gojo agrees and for the first time in a long time he smiles without guilt, thinking to himself:

“I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.”

[coreofgold]

"A supernatural charter? Like a guild?" Astarion couldn't help but ask. He's not sure why he asked. He wouldn't even join if he wanted to.. Well, maybe. "Ah, I don't know anyone."

"It's nice to meet you, Astarion." Zed smiled at the other, glad that he had shaken his hand. "I was thinking of starting a local supernatural charter in the city, for us supernatural to come and talk our problems out with people who would get it. Know anyone who might benefit?"

[homestuckreplay]

If WV And PM Have No Fans I Must Be Dead

(page 1032-1039)

The mirroring of Jade (Prospit; dreaming) and Jade (Earth; robot) has been expanded to also mirror PM (Earth; years in the future) and PM??? (Prospit; now) with more identically-composed panels. It is actually a really smooth transition, and I do think that having time to sit between updates makes it easy to keep track of different versions of the same character, where and when they are, and how they can interact. I’ve seen in forum threads that some people have blasted through the first 1000 pages in a day as they discover the story which must feel like a very steep and confusing learning curve (even if it’s technically more accurate for representing the kids’ story, which for them is still a single day).

The imps in John’s house all look similar enough that this could be a fakeout, and this Prospit white chess piece is not PM, but they have the same build and eyes (see above from pages 723, 844 and 1033). Whether or not this is PM, I love their design. The blue/green stripes hippie two piece with matching hat feels like something I would see on a middle aged woman at a music festival who turns out to be the loveliest person I’ve ever met. But back in Homestuck the angle on page 1033 makes it look like PM(?) has boobs which, cmon, they are a bug/chess piece and I’ve never seen a busty chess piece and this is the laziest possible way to indicate a character is female.

I really do love these futuretime folks like WV and PM, I think their story is so interesting. They’re aliens, they’re bugs, they’re chess pieces, they’re video game NPCs, they’re time travelers, they’re irresolute wanderers through the wasteland, they’re the fabric of freedom and democracy and they’re carrying out the orders of a mysterious thirteen year old girl from a different species who lived centuries ago. That’s fascinating, and all their quirks and strangenesses put them in contrast to the kids who – while pretty weird themselves – are fundamentally just humans on the internet, and so are more grounded much easier to relate to then WV and PM.

I don’t know if they are fulfilling time loops or trying to actively change the past, but they seem naturally drawn towards these bunkers, like they instinctively still interface with the video game world after leaving it.

The narrator also talks directly to WV again on page 1036, something they did a lot while WV was commanding John in Act 2 (p.258, for example), though this hasn’t really happened with PM (yet). In fact it better parallels Jade, the character who most often speaks to the player. Today she actually tries to command WV, using several ==> commands in her note – I wonder if he is programmed to respond to these in any context, not just via computer terminal.

But for real, it must be so hard for WV not to eat those tasty greentext envelopes Jade has made him. And Jade absolutely called this right down to the position of the clouds and the fact that PM would be wearing the postal hat. (I guess Jade doesn’t need to feel guilty about causing the bunker to explode if she knows PM will survive, and that has interesting implications for her perspective, if she thinks it’s okay to cause harm in the moment because she definitively knows it won’t have a major, long term impact). But her predictions are eerily specific, not only in their detail, but also in her knowing exactly what guidance WV (Mister Mayor!!) will need to carry out this plan. Her ‘the freedom of your people depends on it’ is a really good way to manipulate WV, as I’m sure she knows he would never neglect his critical mayoral business no matter how tasty the letter is.

So, there’s going to be an important gift exchange, and it might be relevant that this page drops six days before Christmas. These two were on different sides of the Prospit vs Ominous Planet war, but the hearts and spirit of giving in the note suggest a peaceful exchange, two sides transcending a former antagonism. PM reaching for their sword on page 1039 isn’t a good sign, but I��m sure that as soon as they see the mail, the critical mail business will take precedence.

A more dangerous antagonism comes from the mysterious Aimless Renegade, whose gun remains pointed at the other two. I don’t think either WV or PM has noticed them yet. More importantly, has Jade seen them? They’re not mentioned – or warned about – in Jade’s note, and so could be somehow invisible to her powers. This isn’t unheard of; Jade has ‘never had any sort of feeling about [the trolls] or what they want’ (p.1000) and says that ‘if [Bec] wants to be found, he will find [her]’ (p.942), so the trolls and Bec both have some defenses against her. AR could be associated with either the trolls or Bec, or immune for a secret third reason.

Either way, I’m nervous. I like this beautiful WV-PM friendship predicted by Jade’s note, and I don’t want either of them to get blasted with an assault rifle. So whether or not this element has been accounted for by Jade, I’m hoping for some sort of holiday miracle.

> PM: Draw sword; look upwards.

[avocado-writing]

Ohhhh my lord I would DIE for some sort of AU where Astarion had a lover/partner before he was turned by Cazador???

And maybe he finds you visiting his grave after being freed from the tadpole or something and mentally debating whether to go to you or stay hidden bc he’s insecure about being a vampire?

Idk I’ve just been thinking about this randomly and the angst would be so goooood

Love Love Love your work Avo 💚💚💚

notes: sorry for this I swear I’ll write something happy next.

pairing: astarion x reader.

warnings: hurt, no comfort

rating: T

He dies and leaves you broken.

At least, you think he does. There is no way for him to come to you through those first few years, when Cazador keeps him imprisoned alone and half-crazed with starvation, sucking the innards out of rats until their desiccated husks are his only company. Eventually he manages to endear himself to his master enough that he is allowed out of the palace, though that is only to bring food back in the form of the unsuspecting nobles of Baldur’s Gate.

It is a miserable existence. He hates his body, hates himself, and as Cazador forces him to seduce people back, using his own beauty as bait, the soft nights he spent with you are all that keeps him sane.

Your memory is a light in the darkness of his new life.

On the fifth anniversary of his death, the first chance he has since he was turned, he cannot help but go and visit his grave. Call him maudlin, but he wonders if it has yet fallen into disrepair. As a magistrate he was hardly the most popular man in the city, and now everyone thinks he’s long gone…

He does not find it empty. He finds a sobbing figure next to the headstone.

You are just as lovely as he remembers, though your face is stained with tears. You grieve as if he died yesterday and not several years past. Your fingers carefully caress the engraving of his name, the way you used to trace them over his cheekbones, his lips.

It is a punch to the gut.

“Why did you have to leave me…” you choke, gripping the grass so hard you tear it from the ground.

He wants to hold you in his arms. To tell you that he is here, that death didn’t take him. He wants to remember what it feels like to touch you, really touch you, not just live by an echo of it in his memory. 

But he can’t, because he is a monster. A creature which belongs to the night. You would not want him now, would you? You’re a thing of beating blood and soft flesh and breathed air and life. He simply cannot anchor you to this thing which he has become and drag you down too.

That would just kill him all over again.

Wordlessly, he leaves you to mourn.

He comes back every year, to that little corner of the graveyard. You still cry but as time moves on, it is less, and eventually you make it through a whole visit without shedding a tear. You wax poetic about your favourite memories of him: quiet meals spent together, days when you never left bed, private in-jokes he thinks you would have forgotten by now. He listens to you talk from the shadows. 

It is the one thing he has to look forward to all year.

Then you start bringing company.

Your partner holds your hand tightly, and Astarion seethes from the darkness as you tell them about all him, about the pale elf you used to love. They listen as you fondly recount stories of your time together, and Astarion is torn: you no longer sound hurt like you once did, like the grief is a constant companion as you stumble on through life; but he is bitter. You were his. And now your hand easily links through the fingers of another.

He considers attacking you both. Biting you, trying to turn you. Killing your new paramour and having their bastard blood quench his unholy thirst.

But then you laugh, really laugh, tipping your head back in mirth at something they said, and leaning up against them. The way you used to with him.

How can a dead heart break?

He leaves.

The next year, when the two of you visit, you have matching rings on your fingers.

The year after that, you do not come to his grave at all. He wonders if you have finally forgotten about him. He tries to swallow this fact and move on, but what does he have to move on to? More misery. More loneliness. More Cazador.

The year after he finds you there, once again, and he feels the first twinge of joy in gods know how long –

“We had a baby, Astarion,” you say to the cold stone in front of you, carefully clearing off the moss which has attempted to take it over. “A little boy. He’s so precious… I know you never really liked children, but I hope you’d be pleased for me. I miss you, my darling, but I’m finally happy.”

He never visits his grave again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling

[ivolgacosplay]

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to try living again.”

My Astarion cosplay

Gravestone made by me

Cemetery isn’t real, it’s photoshopped

photo by exze_cos

[coreofgold]

"Welcome to the real world, where no one is as good as they seem." Astarion mused. "Though, color me curious, what brought up that people do suck?" If this keeps the guy talking and entertaining him, then he'll keep going.

"hopefully it's more entertaining than it is now," they paused. "because it fucking sucks right now and so do some of the people,"