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nee-biter · 1 year ago

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Pink | Virgin!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Synopsis: Miguel has a crush on you, the popular girl from his biology elective class. After your ex-boyfriend threatened you at a house party, all Miguel wants to do is make sure you’re safe and sound. And that your ex pays for it.

Warnings: Cursing, Sexual Abuse, Leaked Nudes, Some Violence, Sexual References, Alcohol, 18+ only even if it's not full smut yet This is part one of a two-shot fic! I'll be uploading the nsfw part two HERE soon! :>

Pop songs continued to burst through the speakers, as everyone danced and drank. The thin walls of the apartment—not his, just a random baseball jock—moved at every reverberation of the bass. Miguel tried to keep a steady hand at his cup, still half-full from the cheap liquor that a dude was passing around. The reason for his intense focus—you, from across the room.

You were all dolled up, but not for him. Not for anyone, really. But for yourself. That’s what he liked about you. Your hot pink dress that clung tight to your body, your hair flowing freely and reaching the middle of your back, and your legs smooth and supple—he couldn’t stop looking even if he tried to. You were chatting with your group of friends and having a good time.

“I swear to god, you have to talk to her.” His younger brother, Gabriel, who was unfortunately invited to the party despite just being a sophomore, swung his arm around his older brother. “If you don’t, you’ll get stuck with me the whole night and that’s a bit lame.”

Miguel grunted, not wanting to get lumped together with his brother.

In truth, Miguel knew that he should approach you. It’s not like you two weren’t close. You were his partner in biology elective last semester. Though he had known who you were, since you were one of the more popular girls among your batch, that was the first time he met you. It was one of Miguel’s better memories, remembering how ecstatic you were getting paired up with him, since he was majoring in Biochemistry. He had asked, “What’s your major?”

“Art Management,” You had said, unconfidently. “It’s like the business side of Fine Arts.”

“Why didn’t you take the actual Fine Arts?”

“I’m not that good. And if I’m not that good, my art’s probably not worth anyone’s time.” In that memory of his, your head was bowed down as you said these words. Your chirpy energy suddenly dropped. Even in that moment of your first meeting, he wanted to assure you that you were a good artist. Miguel could see that you had a genuine heart and that your vibe wasn’t fake.

That’s why Miguel couldn’t understand it when you told him you were dating Harry Osborne, a privileged prick. Harry’s dad and Miguel’s dad were business rivals, so maybe Miguel had a bias against him. Miguel, a rich kid, having beef with another rich kid; it was laughable. But even so, Harry wasn’t treating you right. Miguel could see it every time your gaze would be stolen by your buzzing phone when you two would do pair-work. He could see the anxiety on your face as you tried to ignore the calls and texts. Miguel wanted to tell you to save yourself from your boyfriend. But ultimately, it wasn’t Miguel’s business. He wished it was.

Timeskip to now, you had just broken up with Harry five days ago. Here you were, partying. Miguel was glad, you seemed happier. But he was so hesitant to talk to you. Miguel didn’t want to seem like he was being an opportunist. After all, he had the biggest crush on you. But then, you made eye contact with him from across the room. With a warm smile, you waved at him. “Come here!” He heard you shout.

Miguel exhaled, relieving his tension before he made his way to you. “Hey, (Y/N)!”

“Miggy! You’re here!” You were bouncing to the rhythm of the song, moving away a bit from your friends.

“Yeah, I managed to swing by! You’re um,” Miguel stuttered, wanting to compliment your dress, your dancing, your anything, but he just awkwardly whispered instead, “You’re here, too.”

Now, in your eyes, Miguel was exactly the man you wanted to see. Not your bully of an ex-boyfriend. Not even the dude hosting the party right now. It was Miguel. You were harboring a bit of a crush on him. You didn’t want to admit it, because you just got out of a bad relationship, but your heart’s already beating for him. Whenever Miguel would do pair-work in biology with you, he’d always give you reassurances that your solutions regarding isotopes and their relative abundance quotients were right. To him, they were just basic solutions. But to you, they were hard to understand. That’s why it mattered so much that Miguel was never condescending, even if sometimes you get it wrong.

You couldn’t help but lean closer to him when you two were across from each other at the library table. You couldn’t help but bat your eyelashes at him, pretending you forgot what the difference of anabolic and metabolic pathways are. You liked the way he would open his notebook, skim the paper lines with his calloused fingers—why were they rough?—then, recap the topic to you with a serious expression. You liked that he was very passionate about his major. You liked the way he wore thick sweaters, making you question what’s hidden underneath them.

Miguel wormed his way into your heart. The only thing you wished to change was his mixed signals. Sometimes, he acted aloof to you, proceeding to bury his face in his books, squinting at you, or being almost an hour late to your study sessions. And yet, sometimes, you caught him staring at you. He’d look away instantly. Now that you’re single, you hoped he’d ask you out soon.

“So, who did you come with?” You asked, wondering if he went to the party with friends or with another girl.

“Oh, just by myself.”

“Really~” You asked, teasingly. “Then, why do I see your brother doing belly shots with those people?” You pointed at Miguel’s brother, lying down on the kitchen aisle. He spotted you two and waved back at the two of you.

Miguel cringed, then muttered some phrases in Spanish, but you couldn’t understand. You chuckled, assuring him that it’s fine. “Sorry, he usually stays at home. Don’t worry, I’m not chaperoning.”

You giggled at his words. He loved the way your eyes crinkle, when you laugh. He was so happy to see you. But the happiness was shattered when a new party barged in the living room—Harry and his two ugly friends.

Miguel immediately looked at you; his own face mirrored your worry. He wanted to pull you away to a different corner of the apartment to distract you, but Harry called out to you as soon as he saw you.

“If it isn’t the girl I dumped!” Harry declared, pushing his face close to yours. Everyone within your vicinity started looking.

“Actually, Harry—she dumped you,” A friend of yours said.

“No, she didn’t. Why would she? I’m the best she’s ever had!” Harry was leaning close to you; his breath reeked like alcohol. Miguel had had enough. He put himself in between you and Harry, giving the boy a glare. But Harry was drunk and stupid enough to not back down. “I know you, you’re O’Hara’s son. How does it feel having your daddy almost fucking bankrupt?” Harry turned to you. “Is this your new man?”

You looked at Miguel as your face flushed even further. You couldn’t say anything, overwhelmed at the presence of your ex.

“Listen,” Miguel muttered angrily, “Just leave her alone. And leave my dad out of this, too.”

“Fine. Fine.” Harry raised his two hands in mock defeat. But he winked at you. “I’ll leave her alone, alright.” He almost turned away. You and Miguel almost sighed in relief. But he just made it worse by addressing everyone. “By the way, look at your phones, people! Have a look at my ex!”

Everyone’s phones started dinging. You felt your blood go cold, your stomach frozen over. One by one, you heard your own moans and whimpers coming from people’s phones. It dawned on you that he shared leaked videos of you to everyone. You didn’t even know he took them. You didn’t have the heart to check what specific lewd moment was captured of you. Your friends started shouting at other people to turn that shit off. Miguel looked at your face, not once checking his phone. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t find it funny. Not at all. The music stopped and you felt all eyes looking at you. As if he wasn’t cruel enough, Harry turned up the volume of his phone at just the right moment of you screaming his name. That’s when two things happened—you bolted away from the party and Miguel suckerpunched him in the jaw.

Harry laid on the floor, his jaw an obvious red. Your friends started kicking his unconscious body and they told Miguel to find you and bring you back. He followed, wanting to know where you are and wanting to soothe your pain. As much as he wanted to beat Harry into oblivion—his main concern was you. Where were you? What were you feeling? How can he help?

He exited the building and looked around the street for you. You were at the heart of Nueva York; you could be anywhere by now. Quickly scanning the brightly lit streets thanks to the neon billboards and LED lamp posts, Miguel finally noticed your figure hastily taking the left to a busier street. Miguel called out to your name but you momentarily disappeared in the crowd. He pressed on further and caught you entering a convenience store.

Miguel entered, too. The bright lights of the convenience store made him jolt, claws instinctively coming out. So he placed on a unique pair of glasses. He saw you crouching at the cold drinks section.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Miguel asked, crouching at your figure.

Your mascara was ruined as tears had been streaming down your face for a while now. Your nose and lips were puffy, even as you bottomed out a bottle of mule. “Don’t look at me.”

“Can we talk, (Y/N)? You look like you need some fresh air.”

You didn’t answer as you nursed down the beverage.

“Also, have you paid for that?”

You shook your head. You were ready for him to pester you even further with more questions, but what you didn’t expect was that he just sat down beside you. In the middle of the cold-tiled aisle, Miguel just pondered the silence with you. You became aware of your beating heart almost made numb by the alcohol, but you couldn’t deny the heat in between your bodies. Miguel provided such warmth and such hope in your shameful situation You felt tears brimming your eyes. They couldn’t be stopped. “Did you—Did you… watch it?”

“No,” Miguel reassured you as quickly as you had asked. “I will never.”

You leaned into his shoulders, noticing how he didn’t flinch at your touch.

“If it helps, I think you can report him.”

You considered it for a split second before rationalizing with yourselves. “His dad will just pummel my reputation even more. There’s no winning here, Miguel.” You buried your face in the darkness created by bringing your knees closer to your chest. Miguel reached for the bottle, taking it from you. “I should just accept it.”

Miguel felt even worse now that you’ve given up. He wanted to make you happy. He wanted to respect your decision of course, but at the same time, he didn’t like how that asscrap crushed your heart to pieces. You didn’t deserve that. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

You were silent for a bit. “Sleep with me.”

“What?!”

Lifting your head from your knees, you looked at him with a straight face. “Sleep with me. Please.”

Miguel, flustered, just kept staring at you. Were you serious? You seemed like it. His mind tempted him to meet your demands. If it makes you happy, then he’ll make you happy. But he was quite sure that you’re just drunk, lonely, and vulnerable—not really a good sign that you’re thinking clearly. Also, he was hesitant because of another thing. “That’s not a good idea. I should bring you back to the party.” He tried standing up, but you grabbed his sleeve and mumbled more pleas. “(Y/N), you know we can’t do that.”

“Why not? I like you, Miguel. Please.”

Miguel stood there, trying to think of possible scenarios. Maybe he could go to your apartment, tire you out (in a non-sexual way), then leave when you finally go to sleep. But you’d probably get worried that he did something to you while you’re sleeping—not good. Maybe he could pretend to not be interested in you, then bring you back to your friends. But he’d risk losing what he has with you—not good.

No matter what rationalizing thought he had, the temptation to give in won over his heart, his logic, and his virgin cock. That’s right. Miguel hasn’t done it with anyone. It’s not because he was saving it or anything. It’s not even because he was never attracted to anyone before you. It was his spider-man gigs and his academics and his double life and his teen-turned-sudden-adult angst and his anal-retentive father. In his 20 years of life, there just wasn’t a time for it. Now, you’re suddenly offering sex to him. Why would he refuse?

He coughed, not believing what he was about to say. “If we’re gonna fuck, you better sober up.” Miguel snatched a water bottle and some snacks from the nearby aisles, then helped you up until you’re standing. “I’ll pay for your alcohol, but leave it behind, please.”

You stood up, hugging his arm as you’re still inebriated. You let him lead the way as he paid for the food, before leading you outside. Finally noticing the glasses he was wearing, you poked at it as he grimaced at your touch. “Glasses?” You mumbled as you buried your face in his arm.

“Yeah, they’re light-sensitive.” He hooked your arm as he led you through the crowd. “Where do you live, (Y/N)?”

“Not telling!” You teased, before gulping down water.

“Do you want to have sex or not?”

“Hehe. Sixth avenue. Alessandra Palace. Not a real palace.”

Miguel crouched on the floor, offering his back for you to ride on as you tried sobering up. You giggled as you got on his back, peppering kisses on his ears. Miguel blushed at the contact and told you not to do that. You pouted with an audible ‘hmp’ before Miguel held the back of your knees and lifted you up. “Mind texting your friends that I’m taking you home?”

“Why are you so strong?” You whispered while rubbing your forehead on his sturdy back “Thought you were a nerd.”

“(Y/N).” As much as it confused him to admit, Miguel was having fun seeing how adorable you were in this state. “Hold on tight.” -- end for now --

#miguel o'hara #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara x reader #someone makes a cameo lol #gabriel o'hara

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megarax-ponyo · 2 months ago

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You. 🫵 I saw there is only one art depicting Hoppy Hopscotch, and I am here to ask if we can please get more?

Sure! I'll upload more content about her very soon, since in my Au she's Catnap's friend (a bad influence BTW!) since she also has a small role in the story I'm building Another reason why I haven't uploaded more content about this character is that I want to change her design, I didn't like the design I gave her before at all because it's too simplistic for my taste, I only gave her that look since it was a "beta version" So I want to give her an appearance that matches your personality that I'll give her in the story

I don't want to give spoilers about it, but I need to add some characters to the story, since I haven't included all the SC I want

For now this is the dirty version of the design I have planned for the character, I will add colors and upload the final product very soon, finally putting it into the story

I hope the design is nice and you like it :3

#meganixart #poppy playtime chapter three #poppy playtime smiling critters #smiling critters #my au #smiling critters au #my art #smiling critters hoppy hopscotch #hoppy hopscotch #poppy playtime fandom #my artwrok #smiling critters poppy playtime #poppy playtime fanart #the smiling critters #my stuff #poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #my au ideas

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zzthekaiju · 7 months ago

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Best of the Reptiles in Media - 02 - Heart

Here we are again taking a look at some of my favorite scaly heroes. And this time, we go to the realm of animation. That golden frontier where anything is possible.

A lot of people have asked me what my favorite animated film is. And ever since 2016, I've had the definitive answer. It's a film from Japan staring who might be one of my favorite animated protagonists of all time. One that I wish was recognized by way more people than just the cult following his movie got.

You could say that this character...has a special place in my Heart.

And yes, that is his name. You'll learn to appreciate it.

Omae Umasou da na (You are Umasou) (2010) is an anime adaptation of a series of children's books revolving around a belligerent Tyrannosaurus Rex who ends up adopting a baby Ankylosaurus, with all the mishaps that implies. I'll admit, when I heard about this film for the first time, I wasn't sure what to think. Surely, this free film uploaded to Youtube wouldn't possibly--

It proceeded to rewrite my brain chemistry forever. It really is a great film. It's beautiful to look at, the animation is really action-packed and cute at the same time, it's got a gripping story (which I'll get into), and above all, it's main character is a martial arts-practicing Godzilla-looking T-Rex who engages in interspecies adoption. WHAT MORE COULD I HAVE ASKED FOR?!

But enough beating around the bush, why is Heart so compelling to me?

Let's start with an introduction. Heart is a Tyrannosaurus Rex from a prehistoric world whose lost egg winds up found and adopted by a kindly Maiasaura. Unfortunately, a carefree life of fun and peace with his mom and half-brother Light is brought to an end when he discovers his true nature as a "Big Jaw" (as in, carnivore). After running away out of fear of what he might do to his family, he grows up hardening both his soul and his combat skills so that he may survive the unforgiving badlands outside of the forest he grew up in (complete with training montage).

Then, as if life wasn't done throwing him curve balls, Heart is imprinted upon by a little baby Ankylosaurus he was just about to eat (complete with calling him the Japanese word for delicious, hence the name). Soon, Heart is caught between going with his true nature or taking a few cues from his own adoptive mother...

Design-wise, Heart isn't winning any accuracy contests, but then again, no creature here is. And it hardly matters, either. This dino manages to find a great balance between looking like the kind of character I'd want a plushie of (seriously, why haven't we gotten on to that) and one that conveys great ferocity and coolness. A major part of how that's conveyed is his expressions. This guy is a GOLDMINE of reaction faces for almost every occasion. So much so that, long ago on my Instagram page, I posted a compilation of faces that either cracked me up or just showed his facial range in general.

What's your favorite? Let me know in the notes/reblogs!

Anyway, then there's when he fights. And MAN, does it go hard! Heart doesn't exactly wear kiddie gloves when he's put in a combat situation, utilizing heavy kicks and deceptive agility as his opponents barely keep pace. We see him go up against sauropods and other Big Jaws, and really, I just need to show you these GIFs to sum up what it's like.

But that's not where Heart truly shines. It's his role in the narrative. You see, in most dino media aimed towards younger audiences, the big mean carnivore is the villain. This was most prevalent in works like The Land Before Time with Sharptooth, and the Carnotaurs from Disney's Dinosaur (both of which were the stuff of nightmares for little dino nerds like me). Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. Giant theropod dinosaurs are indeed scary, so of course they make for good villains. But then you consider that most of these predators aren't hunting our adorable plant-munching protags because they're evil. It's just in their nature as predators. What are they gonna do? Go vegan?

And that's the troublesome crossroads Heart finds himself at. You could say this film offers a deconstruction of the "vicious meat-eating dinosaur" archetype. The Anti-Sharptooth, if you will. We're obviously meant to root for him because he's the protagonist and an altogether pleasant guy, but at the same time, both herbivore and carnivore are fully-sapient beings here, and Heart must feed.

The film does NOT restrain from showing him hunt down his prey, but it has the intelligence to show that this is not malice or even pleasure, it's simple survival instinct. He is a huge shade of grey in what would otherwise be a very black-and-white scenario in any other film. And it gets even harder for Heart when Umasou enters the picture.

For the record, almost all of Heart and Umasou's interactions are the definition of adorable. Little Umasou is such a little ball of sunshine both inside and out, and poor Heart just doesn't have the...well, heart...to either eat or abandon him. Seeing his exasperation while keeping him safe while also training him in the ways of fighting like an anime protagonist (complete with training montage) is all kinds of endearing and a testament to Heart's strength of character. Of course, it leads to the inevitable point where he has to let him go...but unlike the source material, it doesn't take. Umasou knows that he and his adoptive dad are as different as can be, but he doesn't care. He's his family, and vice versa, something Heart comes to accept whole-heartedly (I did it again, didn't I).

And with that, the ending to this amazing nature vs. nurture story is very bittersweet, starting with Heart and Umasou reuniting with the former's mom.

Actually, before I keep going, I just want you to know that this scene in which they finally see each other again made me go from "wow, great movie, ten out of ten" to "I NEED TO TALK TO MY MOM!!!" in less than a minute. Seriously, if you're looking to strengthen your maternal bonds, watch this movie and watch the magic happen.

Aaaaanyway, after a heated battle between Heart and the one implied to be his real dad, the truth remains that he can't stay. He's resigned himself to a life as an outcast, never being compatible with his parent and brother's kind while at the same time being shunned by his fellow Big Jaw for adopting food. Nevertheless, he leaves in high spirits, having mended what had for the longest time been a broken bond. That, and he doesn't have to be a straggler alone, anyhow.

Really, Heart is everything I love about a lot of protags in one big package. He's a reptile (a dinosaur no less), he's a badass, he's a nice guy, he rages against what he is in order to be WHO he wants to be, and he's undoubtedly dad of the year. I hope more people come to recognize and appreciate him as much as I do.

Also, he's heavily implied to be in a steady relationship with an adorable Elasmosaurus, so he's got that "interspecies romance" trope possibly going for him too! C'mon, fellow You are Umasou fans old and hopefully new, you can't tell me you don't see it too!

#best of the reptiles in media #ramblings #dinosaurs #you are umasou #heart

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itsquakey · 3 months ago

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Q&A Time!

I haven't done a Q&A in a while so let's bang out some asks from the askbox and answer them.

Without really saying much, things have kinda gotten better, but I am def in a hole right now from multiple pretty saddening things happening to me all within a month. I'm having a lot of issues drawing but I don't think it's burnout-more likely I'm just a sad lump. I'm sure I'll improve though once the year finishes us.

Kind of...I plan to make either a epilogue for Revenge of Pike Knight or an entirely different comic about his process of letting go but also forgiving himself for her actions. He never goes back to being sweet bandana waddle dee but she does manage to loosen up as time goes on.

Mago gets stripped of any and all power that the average doomer doesn't have. So yea. He's a little guy you could punt like a football.

It's honestly really hard to say what my favorite food is, as I am someone who struggles with food (I blame it on the fact I almost died of starvation as a toddler and it ruined my entire digestive system but who knows it could be crappy genetics too). However here are some foods I enjoy that people may like! (Recipe Links are in the names)

Banoffee Pie: I usually like it without the bananas though, they are too soft texture-wise for me so it's really more Toffee Pie. Just remember if you are making the toffee from scratch that it is basically like making a bomb and you HAVE to make sure timing is correct otherwise pressure will build and either you will die or your kitchen will get a nice brown coat of sugar-paint (Personal experience here).

Chocolate Souffle: I always have this for my birthday so it's a fond treat. It IS a souffle though, so it's very hard to make if you do not have the experience.

Quiche: I love quiche, it's something that is eggy but also a pie and I can eat it any time of the day. I usually like just cheese in it but meats and some small greens are also good.

And finally- Zucchini Brownies (Or just walnut brownies): Which I actually haven't had in a while but man am I craving them. They sound weird but you can't taste the zucchini and it brings a nice dampness to the brownie.

When Powehi was little his sisters loved to tease him even though he would give little to no reaction. They seemed to have a decent relationship as children but I would not be surprised if Powehi doesn't really like his sisters a whole lot when he's an adult. They're still as annoying as before but now they act more like their father (a pet peeve of his). However they are still his sisters at the end of the day, so he puts up with them.

Since I don't know if I have the post up anymore- ANY FANART OR INTERPRETATIONS/INSPIRATION OF MY WORK IS OKAY. If it is fanart or is heavily based off my work all I need is name credit or an @/. If you @/ me, there's a very high likelihood I will see it and reblog it!

As someone who worked with various animals including tarantulas for a while- I love them. I love their fuzz and their little claws and paw pads and the fact they're chill (but at the same time very anxious) little dudes. I think they get a bad rap but they're nice.

If I remember correctly, the death of Meta Knight comic was originally artist trolling. Yes, I made the comic to purposefully get a reaction from you all and laugh evilly while you cried over his death. However that comic is the backbone of Nextgen and I'm glad I made it.

Yes, I will get to that art eventually. I'm just taking my time for reasons. I will/am also uploading art that is old but was never released on my account. Eventually once all the old art is posted new art will start up again.

Meta works his way up the ladder to become a Reaper. Not really spoilers but his design will be brought back soon. But yes, he can still see his friends with the help of Morpho. Also Galaxia shattered in the death comic, so she's long gone as well but returns to Meta in the afterlife at some point.

Dedede ain't dead yet! He's still kicking. Meta would have to meet him in the mortal realm as a little buggy.

Yes, however I highly doubt I will ever cover them in Nextgen, so it's up to fan interpretation at the end of the day.

Yes he does, he takes the form of a beetle much like Morpho takes the form of a butterfly in the mortal realm and gets to visit his friends when he can.

Apologies, but only my girlfriend can hug me : )

I imagine if the situation calls for it he does use his tongue. However he mainly chooses the sword and his fabric arms.

In Nextgen I like to imagine Kirby's copy abilities change as they grow up instead of someone upgrading them for him, hence why they look different when he uses copy abilities.

Powehi has always had some of Marx's powers and grew up with them normally. However as he gets older he begins to really not like them because it makes him different in a way others may be intimidated by.

In Nextgen Chilly and Magolor never got nor will get married. They're off again on again exes because it is way funnier that way and honestly aligns with the one manga more.

Magolor and Chilly met during the events of Star Allies, and their relationship/personalities are kinda based off that manga in a minor way.

Arthur showed up out of nowhere on Castle Dedede's entrance and ever since then Kirby has taken care of him.

In a surprising turn of events, no. The waddle dee from Kirby 64 in Nextgen is actually Bandana's/Pike's older brother who is the sole reason Bandana/Pike went down the path she did. The stories that were told about the adventure and the heroes his older brother worked with got her to be inspired enough to actually work alongside Dedede and later Kirby and the others.

Because that belt buckle is the last remaining piece of who he used to be. His robes are gone along with everything else but that buckle. He is now nude.

All Noddies are biologically and magically tied to the Dream Fountain which is the thing that gives them their dreams and tiredness. The only way Castella can have nightmares is if there's some kind of tampering with the Dream Fountain that effects it negatively.

I don't think canon Bandana would enjoy the fact I assassinated his character for some plot lmao. But for the sake of the funny just imagine them interacting like that one sonic and shadow clip from Sonic Adventure 2.

The cycle of matter only affects Dark and Light matter/ anything in between that. Matter like that usually will never see a reaper in their life because their souls almost never make it to the afterlife and instead are in a constant cycle of reincarnation, hence the name. Meta Knight was merely lucky enough to have Morpho break the rules for him just like how Necrodeus broke the rules for him when he was Gala and took his soul to the afterlife. Normally living things are taken by reapers to the afterlife when they die though. While non-matter characters like Dedede, Magolor, Marx, Pike, etc will be able to have a one way ticket to the afterlife, I'm keeping it vague for Kirby as not to spoil future ideas.

That's all for now! I'll be answering more asks in the future don't worry.

#kirby #ask #nextgenerationau #doomerlorau #thats all the tags im putting down lmao

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oozeandgoo-art · 4 months ago

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Bit the bullet and set up a SubscribeStar account.

SubscribeStar is... think Patreon. Their interface is less clunky than Patreon's is IMO, and they're more permissive with porn, which is great because Patreon doesn't allow much of what I do afaik. Beyond that... same sort of model, you give me money on a monthly basis and get access to subscriber-only posts.

There's next to nothing on it right now, but I'm hoping to keep it running for a while. I struggle with that and it doesn't look like I can set SS to charge per-post (ie: so I don't charge anyone during months I don't upload anything), so I might close it down entirely in a little while, I'll keep you guys posted. It also has a minimum payout threshhold of $150, which is a lot and I'm not thrilled to see that because it means if I don't pull it off well I'll just get nothing.

I'm going to aim to post a lot of in-progress, unfinished, and "behind the scenes" type stuff there, because realistically I know I won't stop posting my finished art elsewhere as soon as it's done, but surely I can find something I can keep exclusive...

Still, it'd be nice to have something reliable to lean on.

#update #subscribestar

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c0smiccom3t · 1 month ago

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Dimension Dyfenders Mini-newsletter blog - OCTOBER EDITION!

Hello, everyone!! Welcome back to a new D.D newsletter blog post! This time, like ive said ever since a month ago, it's not a big one, but it's very exciting indeed! So, i guess you can call this a "mini"-newsletter post. Now without further ado... Let's hop 2 it!

BIG NEWS REGARDING POCKET ADVENTURES!!

You guys still remember pocket adventures, do you? If so, remember the part where i said its first minisode's script was half-way done? Well... THIS JUST IN! I'm happy to announce that the script is OFFICIALLY FINISHED! Now, all that I have left for minisode 1 at this rate is finishing up all of its pages! And speaking of pages, Here are some panels from the upcoming pages from the comic, possibly to be finished in April, and planned to be released in May 2025 (the series' anniversary month)!

And that's not all! A script for a minisode of pocket adventures also finished production a while ago. (It's not minisode 2.) But hey, i'm saving that for another time, anyway. It's way too soon, and summer has already passed, so... Maybe next time, waves will be easier to catch. Who knows?🌊🏄‍♂️🏖️

What's that you're saying?

"Comet, that's great and all that Pocket Adventures minisode 1 is coming along great! But what about Toonies?"

Ohhh Am I GLAD you asked!

Lucky for you all, I have more toonies comics planned right inside my noggin. So, once i can think up of any good ideas, they will be released for you all to enjoy! As for the new fans however... Since there are some people (esp on Bluesky) who are NUTS abt Indie animation and comics and all that and want to know about D.D's world, premise, cast, etc... I'm happy to announce that RE-INTRODUCTION COMICS ARE IN THE PLANS! they may not be in development, yet. But I can assure you, new fans who discover this series will get their cake! OH YEAH! I forgot to mention another thing... Sometimes in toonies and in the reintro comics, there will be chibi versions of the characters getting into shenanigans! Here's what one of our characters will look like as a chibi, courtesy of the y2k artstyle and Knockout himself.

Look at this, isn't he adorable?? Just think of what the other characters will look like! the possibilities are endless!

I dont know when those comics will be made and uploaded. But trust me, wether it's the re-intro comics, toonies or Pocket Adventures, you're sure in for a treat! Okay... I'm sure there isn't anything else i wanna say, is there...? Oh yeah! Almost forgot!

So... About the specials.

Yes, I mean the Halloween special AND the supposed to be 3rd anniversary special. As much as it pains me to say it, the latter is NO LONGER an anniversary special due to time constraints and IRL stuff getting in the way. Instead, it will be a regular special! (It's still a special though!) It will be rewritten to fit less into the anniversary type and instead it will be made about something thats the same (the gala) but just 30% different which i cannot say because i put an NDA on myself and i can't get it out because if i try to his highness will kill me.

As for the good news, I can say that there's another special in the back of my mind. Actually, its script has been in development for a while now! Just give it a few februarys and it'll happen. However, i'm not telling what it is, but I'm positive that it'll leave you... Love-struck.👑💕

Speaking of plans and whatnot, I'll have to reveal that there isn't gonna be much content in 2025 after m01, mostly because i'll be working on the minisodes and won't release them until theyre finished and because me and my mom have been thinking of moving back to italy next year once im done with art school. So, that means D.D might go on yet ANOTHER hiatus, unfortunately. HOWEVER, I have BIG plans for 2026! Plans that i can't go much into detail (once again NDA by myself). But i can definitely tell you all, that's its gonna be amazing! No, it's not animated (yet.) but it's def worth waiting for!

And for any "fansies" reading this. Trust me, he's NOT leaving anytime soon, and you know it!

As for other stuff before i close this off. There will be a thread on my bluesky about introducing you all to Dimension Dyfenders as a whole! (once i finish up with concept art + ref sheets and new renders im currently working on.) So, be sure to look out 4 it!

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! I am so excited to show off what this series will get into next as yours truly tries to carry it on their back while its 2 team members are away as much as they can! And trust me, I'll be sure to NOT disappoint you all. And thats a promise.

once again, thank you for reading and thank you all for your support! I still will be on the lookout for any fanart i see about the series! Remember, stuff like that and criticism are very appreciated here!! Have a riftastic day/night!!

#Dimension Dyfenders updates #Dimension Dyfenders #Indie comics #Indie comic #webcomic #original characters #stay tuned #IM SO EXCITED GUYS YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!#but also eepy.... i better get some rest #and fast!!#but yeah. hope you're all excited for whats to come! i promise you. again. itll all be worth it in the end!#independent comics #indie animation/comics fans where are youuuuu oooohhhhh

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random-introverted-blog · 10 months ago

Text

His Star - His Queen [Chapter 8 - Changes]

Who you are - Who you're not - Who are you?

Summary: From parents one week, to a jeweler and a business meeting the next, the Ascendant has been very busy. And you've done your best to play the part of a reluctantly behaved consort.

But for how long before the lines blur?

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Warnings/Advisories: Blood, a reference to violence, the Ascendant is very creepy again, possessive behavior, implied SA throughout, emotional and psychological manipulation.

A/N: This took a million years because I kept adding to it. There's a lot that's going to be happening soon. If we were on a rollercoaster together, we're nearing the crest of the high-drop. Thank you everyone for your patience. Please enjoy and forgive the sweat and blood all over the place. I edited as much as I could but there's so much I'll probably be making post-upload edits for awhile.

Chapter is 8,516 words.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

You find a twisted comfort in the warmth of the blood on your hands, as it decorates your arms like a piece of art and adorns the lovely little dress of various pastel colors you had been dolled up in all day.

It doesn't change that you don't remember what happened. One moment, you stood there with this peculiar, yet charming, elderly couple. Conversing with them, as they understood they were not your real parents. But they held onto the hope that you could still be a family together.

You weren't sure if you felt guilty for never telling them outright the truth of your parentage, or for the haunting screams that echoed in remnants of memory in your mind from the savagery inflicted on them in the name of your father.

Savagery that you can't remember.

But is splattered across your arms and across the room.

At some point, it seems you had attempted to infuse your glass of water with the taste of the woman's bloody finger, only to lose interest and abandon the finger in the glass. And the red, very dead eyes of the man seemed to pierce into your unwavering stare, forever frozen in a state of terror.

They were so happy to see you. So sweet. And in return for their boundless affection, you unleashed an unfathomable storm of brutality. The echoes of violence reverberated in your skull, drowning out the once rich sounds of laughter. The scent of blood and fear hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of freshly baked cookies that the mother had brought with her, along with a story of how she commandeered the palace kitchen. It was astonishing that his spawn hadn't erupted into a chaotic frenzy yet. You had no doubt they were the parents of the other you. You were willing to play along, at least for their sake...

"Oh dear. Now just look at this mess..." scolded a familiar voice behind you, by the door, though the tone was more amused than annoyed. His footsteps creating a soft thud as he approached then appeared beside you. "Is everything alright, my love? What happened?" he asked, worry lacing his words. Crouching down, he met your height, his hand brushing against your arm, grounding you in the chaos - with genuine concern etched on his face. From the corner of your eyes you caught his noting the pool of scarlet blood your knees have been bathing in, seeping into his expensive dark wood floorboards.

His fingers delicately pushed aside the blood-streaked strands of hair from your face, somewhat sticky with blood. "Did they hurt you?" Astarion presses, but his tone remains gentle.

You shake your head; the motion accentuated by the soft rustle of your hair brushing against the surface of your shoulders. Wrapping your arms around yourself. "I... No, but..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. Astarion's gaze meets yours, his eyes searching for answers. "Astarion, I don't have parents..." The words leave your lips softly, like a whisper carried by the wind. "Not like you know them." You take a deep breath, the coolness filling your lungs, as if it could somehow ease the weight on your shoulders. Despite your desire for him to know as little about you as possible, this is a secret that can no longer be kept safely. If you ever could.

Astarion studies you, his brow quirks in curiosity. Yet he refrains from mocking or making a witty comment at your expense. "Care to elaborate on that for me, pet?" With a gentle touch, he reached for your arms and guides you to your feet.

Whispering with a tremble that betrays your inner turmoil, the kind that's drowned out by the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears. "I... I'm a Bhaalspawn..." The words taste like a secret - heavy and dangerous, surrendered to the silence between you and meant for his ears alone.

Despite his composed demeanor, you can't help but notice the subtle tensing of his body, a slight stiffness that betrays his reaction to your words. A faint scent of tension lingering in the air, like the crackling of electricity before a storm. "I see," the silence punctuated only by his murmured response, his voice carrying a contemplative tone.

To your utter surprise, he pulls you, your body caked in sticky crimson blood, into his arms. His once immaculate red and black suit becomes stained with the dark, viscous liquid. His embrace tightens around your waist, constricting like a vice. "My apologies, darling. I should have weighed the differences between you and her more carefully." He croons, his voice low and velvety.

Rather than attempt to push him away, sneer, bite, hiss... You simply let your shoulders relax and your eyes gently shut. Like a warm blanket on a crisp autumn morning, his scent embraced you, equal parts familiar and entirely different. You shouldn't be doing this. What would your Star think...?

But you can't think. Your arms ache and your hands pulsate, likely from the repetitive actions of brutally bludgeoning the lovely couple into a mangled pulp resembling a tomato soup. Your wicked heart rejoices in the kills, feeling a dark and twisted satisfaction, a sickening feeling that emanates from deep within your chest. A profound self-hatred arises for harboring a sense of fulfillment that you realize has quietly found its home within you.

Astarion's arms tighten, his touch firm yet gentle. The sound of his steady heartbeat fills your ears as he pulls you nearer to his chest. "You're discontented with your blood," he murmurs the words, a statement rather than a question. "I'll explore what can be done, though I suspect I may have an answer already." Determination fills his voice, slender fingers threading through your hair.

"Ensure that dinner is served in my bedchamber this evening." Astarion commands, his piercing gaze sweeps over the bustling crowd of servants and guards at the door.

A half-elf servant's eyes dart nervously as he observes him. "But the guests--"

"Serve them in the dining hall as planned. Ballar will excuse our absence, and I will handle the rest in the morning," he snaps, his impatience palpable as he gazes down at you. His eyes emit a soft glow that is strangely captivating rather than terrifying. He replies impatiently as he looks down at you, eyes glowing red but soft and not all-consuming. Simultaneously, the shadows lurking in the corners of the room begin to slither towards you, their movements silent yet eerily mesmerizing. Gradually, they envelop both of you, plunging you into an abyss of darkness.

It's a strange feeling, like a gentle and chilly breeze that dances across your skin.

Then the shadows recede and you, still standing in his arms, find yourself transported to a room that dwarfs the familiar confines of your own. If opulence could be a room, this would be it.

A gentle, feather-light kiss lands on the crown of your head, sending a shiver down your spine as your attention shifts to Astarion. "I will draw a warm bath for you," he murmurs, his voice a gentle serenade that caresses your ears. "Feel free to explore the bedchamber to your heart's desire. We'll be sharing it in time, after all." With those simple words, he releases you from his warm embrace, and you watch as he gracefully glides behind you, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Your eyes trace his every movement until he disappears behind a simple wooden door.

Though choosing to ignore his reasons, you take him up on his offer - kicking your bloody shoes off and allowing your bare feet to tread the warm, burgundy carpet throughout the space. The centerpiece of the room is the large, fourposter bed. Framed in mahogany and adorned with intricate reliefs depicting events in history... is that... the netherbrain?

Of course, only the finest silks and velvets, deep shades of red and purple, adorn the bed. Above, a canopy of rich, embroidered fabric drapes down, adding to the sense of regal splendor.

On one side of the room a large bay window, framed with heavy velvet curtains in royal blue and embroidered gold, overlooks the bustling city and distant sparkle of stars flitting above the Sword Coast. A plush window seat, adorned with soft cushions, inviting you to take a seat to relax and think, or perhaps finish the book you've been enjoying the past few nights.

The walls are artworks and tapestries, some magical and depicting wondrous scenes, others more mundane in comparison. With some of these concealed by ominous dark sheets. Between them, shelves, cabinets, dressers of dark wood you presume hold treasures or the like.

A grand fireplace dominates the other wall, its mantle exquisitely carved, a show of incredible craftsmanship. It's fire alight and casting a warm glow over the room. Nearby, an elegant writing desk equipped with fine parchment, inks and quills, very well used by your estimation, and framed by two wall sconces. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow from the lights of the crystal chandeliers and wall sconces, creating an enchanting and regal atmosphere.

The creaking of the door beside the fireplace catches your attention and you're greeted by the sight of a shirtless Astarion, hand extended and beckoning you. "Come, love, it's ready." He says, smiling warmly when you accept and cross the room toward him.

He takes your hand and walks with you into the room, steamed slightly from the warm water and guiding you around the large marble bathtub to a shelf lined with various scented oils and soaps. "I believe we have the vanilla and amber oil you've taken to using lately, if that is what you'd like tonight." Astarion offers in a calming rumble of his chest as he steps behind you. His fingertips graze your skin as he unbuttons the dress for you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Normally, you would smack his hands at the mere thought of him undressing you. But you're so... tired. And drained... and all you want is to clean off the blood caked on your skin.

So you simply pluck one oil after the other off the shelf, examine the selection with some mild interest while Astarion does most of the work taking the dress off you until you need to lift your arms or legs to get it off completely. In the end you settle on a cinnamon and honey scent, one he acknowledges with a silent nod and subtle smile.

It dawns on you, as he turns away with the oil, that he intends to join you in the bath... right as you realize he's as naked as you are. He returns and replaces it on the shelf before retrieving a bar of soap next.

He guides with a hand on the small of your back to the tub and eases you both into the warm water.

Just like that, you find yourself naked and immersed in a hot bath with a twisted version of Astarion, a tyrant of a ruler over... is it just Baldur's Gate or the entire Sword Coast? And to your surprise, he makes no move to touch you like that. Instead, he focuses on helping you wash in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Even as he washes the blood from your hair and face, his hands remain appropriate. He asks a few questions about your urge but nothing beyond the standard array of curious ones to better understand it - as well as what memories you do have of your life.

Then he asks you the burning question. "Did you enjoy your meeting with the cockroach today, my pet?" The Ascendant calmly asks as he sets the soap aside.

He chuckles at your tense reaction, brushing his fingers through your wet hair. "Of course I would know, darling. It wasn't much of a reach." As his arm snakes around your waist, slowly dragging you into him.

"And you're not...?" you cautiously inquire, anticipating his reaction, whether it be anger or irritation.

"It doesn't concern me." Astarion answered, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance, "he can try all he likes, but no matter what he does, his efforts will never be enough to steal you away from me."

His choice of words had you contorting in his grasp, twisting to meet his gaze. "Remind me who stole me first?" You bite and narrow your gaze at him.

Astarion's piercing scarlet eyes, shimmering with an unexpected tenderness, meet yours, locking in an intense gaze. As his hand, radiating warmth, delicately caresses yours beneath the soothing embrace of the fragrant bathwater, the soft sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub creates a serene ambiance. Leaning closer, his presence alone almost whispers lovingly to yours, "One day," he murmurs, his voice caressing your ears and easing your worries despite your reluctance to part with them, "everything will become clear to you, my love."

You want to say it was him who started what happens first... but deep down; you lack certainty. All you know is what follows. Your lips meld with his, the taste somewhat of metal and fine wine. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears intertwines with that of your shared breaths between kisses. As his hands trace the curves of your hips, a gentle tug brings you onto his lap, his arousal grazing against your thigh as you settle. Your hands find their place on his chiseled chest, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips.

In the depths of your thoughts, faint whispers echoes in the recesses of your mind, begging you to stop this. Growing louder and more frantic as his hands guide you into a tantalizing grind on his thigh. But it's the soft, intimate sounds that escape your parted lips as you press them against his, filled with longing and anticipation, that abruptly shatter your daydream, causing your hands to instinctively push against him.

One of his hands holds firmly holds you close to his body, while the other hand playfully teases one of your breasts, his fingers tracing delicate patterns that make your skin tingle with anticipation. When his lips withdraw from yours, a path of soft kisses awakens your yearning, as his breath, filled with warmth, delicately sweeps across your neck. Every touch, every nibble, creates a captivating blend of anticipation and desire that floods your senses. You can feel the gentle graze of his fangs, a delicate reminder of his primal nature, as he tenderly kisses and nibbles with his teeth. The friction of your instinctive grinding against his firm thigh creates a captivating sensation that is gradually consuming you. Just as you begin to comprehend the severity of the moment, he confidently lifts your hips, leaving you helpless to resist the pull of desire...

____________________________________________________________________

Well... at least this time you're not waking up naked with him. Like you do most nights as of the last nine days.

As you wake up, you find yourself nestled against his strong, muscular body. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. Your cheek rests against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. His arm draped over you, while his fingertips delicately trace patterns along your back. Their touch seeping through the fabric of your nightgown and sending a soothing sensation through your body. The faint ache in your muscles reminds you of the passionate evening you shared with him, lingering memories of him between your legs while you sat on the edge of his writing desk. However, the soreness is much milder compared to the first time. Perhaps it's the result of spending the past tenday in his constant, inseparable presence.

Sensing you're awake, his other hand gently weaves through your hair, nails tenderly caressing your scalp. "Good morning, beautiful," his voice reverberates in his chest, rumbling against your ear. You sense he doesn't expect or require a response from you, allowing you to bask in the moment's serenity. Succumbing to the blissful sensation of his fingers caressing your scalp, you let your eyelids flutter closed, prolonging the quiet embrace of comfort and ease.

Once more, guilt gnaws at you for succumbing so easily to the Ascendants' advances. Even though he forcefully brought you to climax in the hallway yesterday, pinning you against the wall, you were able to resist him for a longer time than how quickly you've given in to his embrace just now.

But you can feel something shifting in you, something wrong. Try as you might to fight it, ignore it, deny it, you're reaching the point of reluctantly admitting you are powerless to it. But that doesn't mean you're close to giving up. Once you can slip away from the Ascendant's side long enough, you can approach Elowen about using the sending stone to communicate your progress. Maybe even an update from the resistance on the "extra help" they promised you'd receive soon.

During your brief moments alone, you convinced her it was best for her to hold on to it. Malacai and Astarion were already constant shadows watching your every move. Yet every so often, he includes another "steward" to your company. But you've played the role of warily agreeable "consort" since the night he learned of your bhaalspawn blood.

Astarion continuously parades in one wedding planner after the other, and you reluctantly comply... kind of. Each time you suggest leaving the palace, it predictably spirals into an argument. But perhaps if you can persuade him to allow you to leave with the stewards trailing behind, he might become more inclined to acquiesce.

Until then, you have spent most of your days learning your own body language and manipulating it in a large, public setting to wordlessly communicate that you are, somehow, a superior breed of creature. You haven't been a fast learner, to put it mildly, but Malacai and Astarion were far from discouraged.

Gently opening your eyes and lifting your head, you meet his eyes, watching you. "What is it to be today? More dress design arguments? Wine tasting? Or simply soak in the warm embrace of sunlight?" You ask, a playful tone in your voice. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, a contented purr escaping his lips. "Mm, that last one is rather appealing," he admits, his voice filled with a lazy anticipation. "Especially if you're included."

"Do I have a choice?"

The slip of your tongue cleaves through the silence like a sharpened sword through a goblin. A storm begins to brew behind his eyes as they gently open, his previously serene facade breaking away like a cliff-face succumbing to the relentless sea. Silence slithers into the void left by your words, taut and thickening the air akin to that of a dense fog. "Obedience is a matter of choice, darling. It can be as easy or as arduous as you decide. And we've gone over a few times already how pleasurable it can be," he responds, his voice low and resonant.

As you rise, disentangling yourself from his body, he props himself up on his hands. "We have little on our agenda today, save for a jeweler whom I had Cirrus summon, and I have a meeting later in the evening. So if bathing in the sun after breakfast is on offer, I'm all pointy ears."

"Where? That indoor courtyard across from my room?" You ask curiously, tilting your head.

"No," he says with a disdainful tone, his face contorting in disgust as he visibly pictures the place in his mind. "That place is a ghastly eyesore." The words carry a hint of mockery as he sneers. "Perhaps, with your personal touch, you can breathe life into the space, hmm?" His smile emerges, accompanied by the sound of a gentle chuckle. Leaning in closer, he plants a soft, affectionate kiss on your cheek, leaving a lingering warmth. With that, he gracefully rises from the bed and heads towards his wardrobe.

The sight of pants, neatly folded and hanging in the closet, makes your heart sink. The varied colors and textures evoke a sense of longing within you. Oh, how much you miss the feeling of slipping into them, the smooth fabric against your skin. "Can I please wear pants again?" you ask, your voice tinged with yearning, unable to fight the pout that tugs at your face.

Astarion glances over his shoulder, the soft rustle of fabric filling the air as he effortlessly slips into his clothes. Today, his attire is elegantly understated, with tailored, dark grey pants that hug his legs and a sky blue shirt that accentuates his refined features. The ends of the sleeves and the collar are delicately ruffled, adding a touch of whimsy to his ensemble. "Darling," he replies, his voice gentle yet persuasive, "it's simply not fitting for a woman of your esteemed position." He turns to face you, his gaze filled with a captivating blend of sincerity and allure.

"But I'm the future wife of a godking, no? Who can say besides us what falls within and below my status?" This is possibly the first time you are using this nonsense for your benefit.

With a playful chuckle, he raises his eyebrows and surrenders by holding his hands up, saying, "As my lady wishes, so shall it be." As you open the wardrobe, he glances at the array of exquisite gowns, some purchased and others uniquely designed for you. "I'll have a tailor and seamstress called upon next, then. But will you consider that on some occasions it is better for you to wear one of these instead?" Arching an eyebrow, a subtle plea to you.

"Fine, as long as I at least get to wear pants consistently around the palace in private."

"That sounds eminently reasonable to me, pet." Astarion smiles, passing by you with a kiss to your head, leaving you to pick out a dress for the day.

Once the matter is settled, you follow closely behind him, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting as he leads you out of the lavishly adorned bedchamber and into the expansive hallways. As you walk, the scent of polished mahogany and the delicate fragrance of freshly cut roses fills the air, creating a harmonious blend of richness and beauty. Servants scurry about, their hurried footsteps echoing on the gleaming parquet floors.

Your eyes catch a group of them, their brows furrowed with effort, struggling to lift a massive ornate frame, shrouded in a pristine white silk sheet, off the wall. Their stifled grunts intermingle with the gentle rustling of the fabric. It's not the first time you've witnessed such a scene, but this time, you decide to halt your steps and observe. Curiosity piqued, you inquire, "Overhauling the decor, Astarion?"

He too takes notice of the scene. There is a flicker in his eyes, a fleeting moment of something indescribable that vanishes before you can fully comprehend it. "Something like that," he mutters, his gaze lingering on the servants for a moment before he turns to face you, a warm smile playing on his lips. Offering you his arm, silently telling you it's time to move on.

Despite the strong urge to ignore and walk past him, you reluctantly give in and hook your arm around his, feeling a mix of annoyance, resignation and a sense of begrudging obligation. And the two of you continue on your way to breakfast uneventfully.

__________________________________________________

Although smaller than expected, you'll agree that this balcony, adorned with delicate flowers, where he has had you lounging, has a pleasant charm to it. As you reluctantly let yourself unwind, you nestle beside him, feeling the softness of the plush bench, with its velvet upholstery, contrast his firm body. The gentle breeze caresses your skin. As you gaze upon the bustling harbor, the vibrant colors of the boats and the glimmering water paint a picturesque scene before you. The melodic songs of birds in the distance and the muted chatter of the city below blended together, creating a comforting lullaby.

He made sure you ate enough to satisfy your hunger, and now you feel your breakfast sitting in your stomach like a rock.

Your eyes peel away from the view to admire the vampire lord... god... His eyes, closed in peaceful contentment, reveal his trust in your presence. With his head slightly tilted toward the blue sky, he savors every ray of the sun, his face bathed in warm golden light. The vibrant hues of his pale skin, illuminated by the sunlight, create a captivating contrast. The scent of him enveloped you: bergamot, rosemary, and frost, intermingled with the crisp morning air. You're not sure how long it's been since he ascended, though he once mentioned that the previous you had passed away a century and a half ago. No matter how much time has passed since he secured his ability to walk in the sun, he still clearly adores basking in it.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet so strong, almost fills your heart with a comforting warmth for him. "Why do you need me if you have all this at your fingertips?" Your voice remains hushed, careful not to disturb the restful mood. Absentmindedly finding your hand on his chest, gently caressing it through the fabric of his shirt.

His warm hand settles gently over yours, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. As his captivating crimson eyes open, he gazes up at the vast expanse of the sky, fluffy white clouds drift lazily across the vibrant blue canvas. "All of this power, all of these riches, they are meaningless without you by my side. If it weren't for the hope of being reunited with her, I would have simply scorched Toril, reducing everything, even the stars above, to mere ashes that would cascade upon my skin."

You feel a slight twitch in your ears, and your brows furrow in confusion. "I'm not her, Astarion," you say, your voice carrying a soothing tone and preemptively comforting. "Just as you are not mine." You hope to harness the tender atmosphere around you, using it to comfort him and create a productive conversation.

Unexpectedly, a gentle smile spreads across his face and you can feel his arm slide around your waist, securing you in his embrace. "I know."

Suddenly, the peaceful moment is shattered when the double doors leading into the morning room swing open. A dwarven man in a tailored suit, with a hunched back and a noticeably small stature - even for his race, eagerly approaches as you both sit up.

"Ah, his Almighty Majesty, Godking Ancunín and his betrothed! An extraordinary honor to be in your exalted presence!" He exclaims and bows his head with a wide smile, his thin silver hair glistening in the sunlight.

Two servants and Malacai stand outside the doors. "I am Eldon Greybeard, of the illustrious house Greybeard! Humbly and graciously at your service!" he introduces himself. His voice projects confidence and carries a hint of excitement.

Beside Eldon, three young ladies stand, their faces flushed with exertion. They struggle to balance the weight of the large, cumbersome trunks in their delicate hands. Beads of sweat form on their brows as they try to maintain composure. Eldon's quick movement startles one of the girls, her wide eyes reflecting surprise and relief as he yanks a trunk from her delicate grasp.

Deciding to take that as your cue, you separate yourself from Astarion, who stands up from the bench with you. Effortlessly commanding the shadows lurking in the corners of the balcony, where the sunlight cannot reach. With a mesmerizing control over the darkness, he simply pivots the bench to face the doors. In a tender gesture, he takes your hand and interlocks your fingers, while the dwarf pops the latch to the trunk and flips it open, revealing its contents.

Proudly, the man spins the polished mahogany case around with a gentle creak to display its contents. Bracelets, glimmering in an array of colors and designs, catch the light, their intricate make and materials captivate the eye. The subtle scent of polished gems, worn leather and delicate metal. The Ascendant vampire, his crimson eyes locked with yours, as he guides you both to walk around and sit on the bench. Returning his gaze to the dwarf, his voice cut through the air with a dismissive tone. "We've no interest in these."

Eldon's eyes flit between the bracelets then you and forces a small chuckle. "Yes, of course, my apologies." Then he carefully closes the trunk and sets it aside. With a simple point at the other girl, she sets down the one she's carrying, and he swiftly opens it for you while Astarion releases your hand to slide his arm around your shoulders.

Arranged meticulously in orderly compartments, a multitude of rings sparkle and shimmer under the golden sunlight. "Judging by the ring size your messenger provided, each of these rings should fit the queen's finger flawlessly," Eldon proclaims with a hint of pride. A confident grin spreads across his face, as if reflecting the sparkle of the rings themselves.

While you were indifferent to viewing the selection from where the trunk sat on the ground, the vampire lord effortlessly beckoned one of his servants with a mere flick of his hand. Obediently, the servant grasped the trunk and positioned it before you both. The sight of the servant's pale, trembling hands gripping the trunk contrasted with the dark, weathered wood. The subtle creaking sound of the trunk being hoisted tickled the air. Allowing you to see every detail of each ring clearly and with ease.

You're half expecting him to pick one for you, but he remains eerily silent. His eyes glide over the options, examining them intently, but his hands remain motionless, refusing to reach out and touch any of them. "Astarion?" you inquire, curiosity tinged with a hint of confusion.

He meets your gaze, his piercing red eyes locking onto yours offer a blend of amusement and affection, and shakes his head slowly. "It's your ring, my treasure." The sound of his voice is soothing, melodious in your ear. With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he whispers, "Pick one, pick two, pick them all if it pleases you." His hand, warm and comforting, caresses your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

Awkwardly, you find yourself gazing back and forth, your eyes tracing the intricate details of each ring. Part of you still yearns for that black band, adorned with scattered silver and blue gems. The memory of it tugs at your heartstrings. But you know deep down that you could never tarnish the purity of that memory by wearing it as your engagement ring to him.

Chuckling, an impish glint dances in your eyes as you delicately raise the cool, smooth silver band, feeling its weight between your fingertips. The silver gleams in the light, captivating your attention, even though you typically have no interest in jewelry without practical or magical value. As you gaze at the ring, a hint of amusement tugs at the corners of your lips, finding it a tad on the nose to wear when you're engaged to a vampire lord, yet undeniably adorable.

"Really, darling?" With a playful tone, Astarion inquires, his voice laced with feigned annoyance as he gazes at the ring you're holding up, allowing him to see the intricate design—a round ruby, nestled within the claws of a bat. Its eyes, adorned with two smaller rubies, seem to shimmer with a mischievous gleam.

Refusing to look away, your eyes hold on to his as he playfully rolls his own in a mock display of exasperation. The sound of his chuckle sends a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation that lingers, much as you hate to admit it. Finally, unable to resist, he takes the ring from your outstretched hand, examining every intricate detail for himself.

As he carefully scrutinizes the ring, the balcony becomes alive with a hushed energy. The air carries a palpable sense of anticipation, entwined with the delicate fragrance of roses in a nearby vase. Your heart dances with a blend of exhilaration and jitters while you anxiously await his final decision.

Astarion gently places the ring back into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. With a slight nod, he signals for Eldon to continue showcasing his collection. As the dwarf busies himself, his back turned to you, a tall Elven man gracefully emerges from the shadowed corner of the balcony. You couldn't help but notice the way he stood, hands clasped behind his back, and the lingering scent of a peculiar scent that seemed to permeate the surroundings. "My sincerest apologies, my revered Godking," he says, his voice filled with deference. "I humbly request a moment of your undivided attention."

A look of irritation crossed the Ascendant's face as he rolled his eyes. "By the hells, Ballar," he muttered, his anger evident in his tone.

"It is regarding a certain pest problem."

His arm stiffens around your shoulders, causing a slight discomfort. An uneasy silence settles over the atmosphere. Then, following a tense pause, he starts to rise from his seat, his movements betraying his restlessness. Just as he starts to rise, you reach out and gently grasp his arm, bringing him to a sudden stop. "You know what, Astarion," you say, your voice wavering with hesitation and uncertainty, "I think I'd prefer some time alone to gather my thoughts. About what you said this morning, and moments earlier." You suggest, a silent plea echoing in your heart, hoping he understands the turmoil within you.

Reluctantly, he nods in agreement with an unenthusiastic expression. "Just" his subdued acquiescence barely audible amidst the stillness "don't stray for too long, pet." A hint of caution lacing his words,

Feeling relieved, you hand the ring back to him and gracefully get up. The soft rustle of your clothes mixes with the faint murmur of voices drifting up from the bustling city below. The fragrance of blooming flowers that adorn the nearby flowerbeds dances in the air, mingling with the crisp, refreshing breeze that caresses against your skin.

Excusing yourself from the ornate balcony, you feel a sense of liberation washing over you. Malacai moves to join you, but with a subtle wave of your hand, you motion for him to remain behind. Finally alone, you relish in the silence, craving the chance to collect your thoughts amidst the cacophony of emotions that swirl within you.

Unconcerned with Astarions' instructions, you meander purposelessly through the palace, your footsteps echoing through its grand halls, the intricate tapestries and glistening chandeliers catching your eye. Echoing through the wooden floor in the halls, the soft sounds of distant footsteps create a soothing environment.

As you walk, you can't help but flex your right ankle from time to time, checking the tightness of the shackle. Sure enough, it's still there. Honestly, what a surprise - surely it would have slid down your ankle and freed you already.

Your sarcasm, thankfully, hasn't diminished at all.

What else could it possibly be used for, you wonder? Preventing you from leaving without permission is a likely bet. But It can't just be a means of forcing you to remain seated.

Gods above, you wish you could explain the shackle in the scant messages you've been able to get through the sending stone. Its full utility remained elusive, yes, but you could sense it would pose a formidable obstacle to whatever plan your Star had devised to get you out of here.

You're not sure how exactly, but you find yourself in the alchemist's office if the myriad of variety of plants were your first guess, their leaves reaching out towards the sunlight that streamed through the dusty windows. Empty glass bottles glint in the soft light, lining the shelves in the office. The workbench is a chaotic mess, with scattered papers and spilled substances. A distinct earthy aroma, with undertones of herbs and potions, wafted through the air. Your fingertips brush against the rough surface of the tables as you navigate further into the room, a sense of curiosity guiding your steps.

One plant catches your eye that you don't believe you've ever seen before. A large, worn tome sits adjacent to it, left open with a stunning rendition drawn on the right page, while the left page refers to it as the Slumberthorn vine. The text explains that these despite its deceptively soft appearance; the leaves are razor sharp and laced with a powerful toxin that can swiftly induce sleep in even the strongest, heaviest of humanoids.

You ponder the idea of the toxin entering the bloodstream, but the text clarifies that the toxin's potency is such that it works directly on the skin. Skillful distillation of the toxin can yield a powerful anesthetic, but the process requires expertise. The idea sparks a faint curiosity, but you quickly dismiss it. You never cared much for poison or the like, even in the depths of your stunted memory.

Why let a poison have all the fun your hands could have?

A memory comes to mind from your first day here. When that woman threw the broach, narrowly missing your face and leaving a small, shallow cut on your cheek. How quickly the Ascendant materialized in the room. Perhaps it was the distinct fragrance of your blood that permeated the air, reaching him from a considerable distance. Or maybe...

You lowered your gaze to your ankle, fixating on the shimmering silver and gold hues of the small band that smoothly encircled your skin. It had become all too familiar, the constant, subtle, gentle weight of it pressing against you, that you couldn't escape. If he possesses some kind of magical connection to the band, enabling him to track your every move, this experiment might just be worth a try. Escaping from the confines of the palace was your only chance at freedom. Perhaps this... precarious experiment would prove worthwhile in the end.

Undoubtedly one of the most foolish choices you could make, and that's saying a lot. With a careless gesture, you grab the book, shutting it with a resounding thud. Without purpose or direction, you fling it nonchalantly over your shoulder; the book flying through the room before landing elsewhere with a soft thump. And before doubt can creep in or hesitation can take hold, you gingerly press your finger against the leaf, feeling its soft and smooth surface. Instantly, you feel the minuscule razor-sharp barbs beneath your fingertip, poised to pierce your skin, yet you keep your hand steady.

Instinctively, you pull your hand back as the room abruptly plunges into darkness, leaving you disoriented. The world around you begins to spin, causing a whirlwind of blurred images. Struggling to maintain your balance, you take a cautious step back, the faint echo of your racing heartbeat fills your ears. Suddenly, a wave of weakness engulfs your body, causing your leg to buckle beneath you before giving out. With a desperate attempt to stay upright, your other leg follows suit, and you're vaguely aware of falling onto your side.

You shift onto your side, nestled in his frigid arms, glimpsing your vampire lover behind you in the bed. The dimly lit bedroom in the elfsong tavern envelops you both, shadows dancing on the walls. A symphony of scents dances through the air. The lingering scent of aged wood and a subtle hint of candle wax, which mingles harmoniously with the soothing aroma of bergamot, rosemary, and a gentle whisper of aged brandy that is unmistakably him.

You aren't surprised when his sharp red eyes lock with yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The blankets wrap around both of you, cocooning you in their comforting embrace. Your legs intertwine with his, creating an intimate tangle beneath the covers. With tenderness, you lift your hand, feeling the coolness of his cheek as your touch meets his pale skin. "We'll get through this, my love..." you whisper, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet night.

His eyes flutter closed as your fingertips gently glide over his chiseled, smooth chest, accompanied by the soft sound of his contented sigh. "I know, my star..." he murmurs, his words barely audible, the sound blending with the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes, filled with unwavering resolve, find yours once more, a silent promise reflected within their depths... and...

Suddenly, your body jolts forward, disoriented as you awaken. The cold, hard floor beneath you goes unnoticed in the initial moments, your vision still blurred. As you struggle to regain your senses, a distinct aroma of musty old books and damp earth fills the air. Gradually, as the dimly lit room gradually comes into focus, your groggy mind registers the presence of the vampire ascendant kneeling beside you, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders, shaking you awake. Through the haze, you hear their gasp, a combination of concern and surprise. "Hells, Tav, what's gotten into you?" their voice echoes in your ears as they pull your dazed body into their strong, crushing embrace.

You refuse to let on the dream you had, though you risk playing it over and over again in your mind. If you had to choose between living every day of the rest of your life with this... mockery of the man you love. Or relive that night before Cazador over and over with the real Astarion...

Well... at least you answered one question.

...Slumberthorn vine toxin doesn't need to break skin to be effective.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Remember, you are merely an observer..." He reminds you for the millionth time and deliberately ignores as your eyes roll again, though you do motion to him that your lips are sealed.

Upon returning to the balcony with him, the jeweler was dismissed until a more suitable time. But you weren't in any mood to play the obedient "consort" any longer, and you adamantly refused to put on the ring, which, of course, ignited yet another heated argument.

Needless to say, you were itching for the day to conclude. Why did you even need an engagement ring when everyone knew by now who you were? More like what you were.

You both enter the sitting room without acknowledging the two guards standing watch outside, their presence nothing more than an afterthought. But you still freeze in place when you step through the doors and enter. Astarion teases - his mischievous voice fills the air and sends a thrill down your spine as he playfully remarks, "It's not the first time the staff have cleaned viscera, my sweet." You stand there, completely awestruck by the sight in front of you. The room, once a gruesome mess, now gleams with pristine cleanliness, not a trace of blood or severed fingers left behind.

Your eyes were so fixated on the transformation that you failed to notice the presence of two figures standing near the couch and table, their dark robes flowing and white masks concealing their identities. As you take in the familiar attire, memories flood your mind, reminding you of a certain friend and the House of Grief.

You glance at Astarion and realize he is purposefully keeping you behind him. Though you sense no danger, it's as if he's merely sending a message. "And what news do my kingdom's resident Sharrans bring? Progress on the Unamina?" He inquires as he slowly crosses the room, with you close behind.

One of them locks their arms behind their back. "Indeed. The mother superior herself departed some time ago in search of the necessary components and sent word of her success. Now all that remains is a suitable location." They spoke confidently, their partner extending their gloved hand and offering a wooden case for protecting a scroll.

Astarion's eyes light with an expression you can't read and don't like. His grin proudly displaying his fangs as he, a tad too quickly, accepts the scroll case into his hands. "Wonderful! And what of her return? How soon should I have the carpet rolled out?" He chuckled, tucking the case under his arm closest to you. This wooden case was far from ordinary; it possessed an air of magic, with its shimmering, decorative adornments. Somehow sinister and foreboding in nature...

"Soon. Two days, perhaps three." The other replied, clasping their hands in front of them. "It was far from simple to procure the scroll. The Nightsinger will expect adequate repayment from you, Godking Ancunín, for utilizing her faithful in such a way."

"It is only because of my grace that her church thrives in my kingdom. The least she could do was loan me her toys for this little treasure hunt of mine." He mutters, rapidly losing interest in the Sharrans as he lifts and studies the scroll case in the chandelier's light above his head.

You could feel their eyes studying you from behind their creepy white masks, if only for a moment. "The Mo—"

Astarion tightly tucks the case under his arm again, his piercing glare locks onto the pair. "Tell her," he commands, his voice commanding yet smooth, "to come straight to the palace upon her arrival. I'll ensure preparations are made that she receives a worthy welcome." He gracefully pivots on his feet, the sound of his expensive shoes clicking against the polished wooden floor. "Our business here is concluded," he declares with authority. "Please see yourselves out." With a snap of his fingers, the two guards outside stride inside, seemingly already aware of their orders.

Like you have all day, you shadow Astarion, but not before you steal a quick glance over your shoulder at the two Sharrans. Of course, you have a myriad of questions. What were they doing finding... whatever that scroll is? Why would the Sharrans and the Ascendant work together at all? Could Viconia still be alive and in charge of the Baldur's Gate cloister? Did your alternate self help this world's Shadowheart kill that bitch?

Shadowheart... you miss her terribly. You miss all of your companions, but you formed a deep bond with the cleric.

It's been a century and a half since the other you died, so who knows how long it's been since the Absolute crisis. You vaguely recall that Halsin has also passed in this world, but you can't remember how exactly you know that. Unless Wyll and Gale found means of prolonging their human lifespans, they've likely passed on. Same for Karlach and her engine, and Lae'zel - assuming your favorite Gith didn't return to the Astral Plane. Shadowheart was about fifty years old when you met her. On average, half-elves can live for about a hundred and fifty to two hundred years. If, and it's a significant if, she's still alive, she would be in the twilight years of her life. Assuming assassins or the like haven't taken her out.

Gods, this is so depressing...

The sound of the door closing echoes in the room, snapping you back to the present moment. You realize you're back in Astarion's bedchamber. Where you've been sleeping since the night he learned of your urges.

He carefully placed the case on a dresser that was pressed against the wall, creating a soft thump. He fumbled through his pants pocket to retrieve the small box and extended the ring toward you. You turn away, arms crossed, and he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. "What do I need to do to sway you into wearing it?" Astarion asks, vexed by your behavior.

Nothing. There is absolutely no chance that I will ever wear it - is what you want to say. That you picked one out at all means nothing. It was just a cute ring...

Frustration boils within you, leading you to flail your arms aimlessly for a brief moment as you grapple with your inner turmoil. What you want to say and what would make sense are in opposition. "You... you never even took the time to propose to me properly!" you scoff, glancing away and tightly crossing your arms once more.

"Properly?" He inquires, his tone laced with bewilderment rather than frustration, as he cocks an eyebrow.

"Yes... Unless you consider forcefully taking me against my will as your bizarre idea of a romantic gesture..." You have absolutely no clue what is coming out of your mouth. Why are you acting like this?

Astarion's eyes twinkled with amusement as his lips curled into a smile filled with... happiness, then carefully placed the ring on the dresser next to the scroll case. "Very well. Perhaps I'll organize something of that nature while you're away tomorrow."

Now it's your turn to be puzzled. He can't possibly mean what you think he means... "Apart from your momentary lapse of judgement today, I have been pleased to see improvements in your behavior, and I am inclined to recognize and reward your growth. We can go over the particulars after you've rested." He explains with a calm and patient demeanor, taking measured steps towards you. Shrugging off his shirt and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

His feather-light touch delicately brushes against your cheek, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. His slender fingers leisurely trace a path downwards, their gentle caress leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Eventually, they settle beneath your chin, cradling it affectionately. Tenderly, he lifts it slowly, bringing your lips closer to his, the minuscule distance between you teasingly suspended.

"You wouldn't dare run from your home - would you, my queen?" he murmurs, his voice a velvety purr that resonates deeply within you. You shiver at his words... the accusation they carry. Toying with you, he continues. "That would be very foolish, wouldn't it, pet? You are mine. Completely and unequivocally. There is not a rock in all of Toril you could hide under that I would not find you, darling." His voice is dripping with a honeyed sweetness that conceals an underlying threat.

Then he closes the miniscule distance between your lips. Sealing his words with a gentle, sweet kiss. Amidst the tender exchange, you manage to blurt out, "What's in the case?" Each word escapes between the fleeting kisses.

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile, their warmth grazing against yours, creating a soft and lingering touch, accompanied by the faint sound of his satisfied sigh that tickles your senses. With a delicate gesture, his fingers caress your skin, gently tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. An arm encircles your waist, creating a tender embrace that simultaneously holds a hint of possessiveness. As he pulls you against him, you can feel the strength in his touch, both gentle and forceful and it sends a shiver down your spine. Then, he whispers, his voice laced with determination, promising, "The means to ensure nothing can ever take you from me."

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Batstarion ring? Sad dream? A potential way to cure your bhaalspawn-ery? Sharrans? Mysterious scrolls?

A lot to chew on this chapter.

…So previous Tav was NOT a Dark Urge… Hm.

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skellinore · 3 months ago

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Conquest Knight + Update

Hello, I just wanted to post something, I am not dead. I just, I really just hate sketching, I hate doing lighting and shading or rendering or whatever.

This drawing is an old piece I never published but finished a while back.

[Ignore the update date, Ibis Paint has this weird thing where you press the information button it updates the date, it's stupid but it's whatever, I did finish it after three days after August, 2022 though.]

This is Conquest Knight, my OC for my Creepypasta AU, which I'm pretty sure I'll dub it something along the lines of a Non-Human AU or Humanless AU, because my days. When I was a child, I disliked every Creepypasta that was a human, especially Jeff, Ben, and Toby. Non-human characters are so cool and have so much freedom of character design and personality. I want to see more non-human designs.

Update One: Anyways, the update is I'm still redrawing my old piece of the Slender brothers. Speaking of which, I think I have decided to just make Markus Sinclair my own OC and not an alternate Offender for my AU. Because at this point it's not even remotely close to the original or follows the original design of said character. I feel awful about it.

So once I finish and upload that drawing I'll update all my posts that have Markus in it. However, feel free to send in requests of Offenderman and I'll try and make a design that's close in nature to the character that I'll be happy with, because I am a people pleaser.

Update Two: I am still working on my major project is SCP redesigns, I only have three done outta ten, I'm currently on 106. Like I said, I hate sketching. I hate rendering. I however love doing lineart. This project is going to take a WHILE, and I hate that. I am sorry.

Venting:

Running this blog has caused me so much stress, I know I state primarily that this blog is going to be Creepypasta and SCP based, but honestly. I just want to draw whatever makes me happy at the moment/month.

So to help me de-stress, you'll probably see some content that relates nothing to the two, and I know the last posts before this are also not related to Creepypasta and SCP which bugs me, but I've dug myself a deep pit and I want to get out of this... art block? Burn out? I have no idea what I've been feeling these past few months.

Anyways! This is the end of the post, I'll publish something soon after this, hopefully.

#art #digital art #creepypasta #original character #Slender OC #vent post #I'll be updating my old post tags when I finally publish my actual Creepypasta about Slenderman and his brothers.

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hwaightme · 2 years ago

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Your fan, San (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

💬 pairing: san x interpreter!reader 💬 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining, drama 💬 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if san was stanning you 💬 wordcount: 4.5k 💬 warnings/tags: language, conflict, two shy dorks, homie sabotage?, misunderstandings, love above all, touring, busy life, reader is a pro linguist, we stan simpteez, unedited oop- 💬 taglist: @acciocriativity, @doom-fics, @layzfeelit @jcngh0-hq @black--awsum @honey-lemon-goose @i-luvsang @jackinmyarea , @izuijin @justhere4kpop 💬 a/n: Hello there <3 here is PART 2 of YOUR FAN SAN!! Hopeless romantic? Check. Chaotic? Check... and the FINALE is coming soon??? ;~; P.S. that uni life do be getting wild so apologies if I'll be haphazardly uploading or if trains of thought are derailed~

'The Beauty of Falling in Love - a collection of short stories, poems and musings'

That was the title of the book you had to translate. And if you were not a (fully) sappy and sentimental mess before, you sure as hell were now. Because each little chapter, be it an anonymous recollection of favourite moments with a loved one, or a vignette dedicated to someone special, was some of the most heartwarming work you have ever read.

Each piece sounded so personal, so real, that you found yourself spending more time than usual on this commission. You had made an agreement with the client that they would be sending chapters out one by one, and prior to receiving one, you would send back a completed translation.

It was an easy enough arrangement, and was not too taxing when it came to your personal time. You could ruin your sleep schedule to your heart's content by watching dramas that you had missed whilst on tour, could make late night trips to the convenience store because you did not want to be caught in the businessperson rush, could catch up with people who you had inadvertently ghosted because of work and inability to find words when you wanted to.

Outside of your preferred mode of relaxation, you kept in touch with some of the members of ATEEZ, thanks to a group chat that San had created and 'simply had to add you' - at least that was how he had advertised it. The group chat consisted of him, you, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang, who to you seemed like a random pick, since you did not interact with neither Yunho nor Yeosang as much.

But over a very short period of time this had changed for the better, and you had grown very comfortable, attached even, to the chaotic quartet. If anything this it was a top up vaccine for being able to keep up with the ATEEZ chaos - otherwise you would be familiarising yourself with it again for tour, as if it was the first day of work.

Little did you know, you were talking with the Operation ring leaders + Yeosang who was in it for the gossip, and to control the fire... in the way he wished. It was more or less a regular conversation, aside from San occasionally panicking and running up to one of the guys for advice.

"Yeo why did you write 'AMOGUS'?"

"Don't question me. This is art- ah see, Y/N sent the prayer hands emoji, she agrees." Yeosang responded, pointing at his phone screen.

"I feel like you guys are six parallel universes ahead of me and I don't like it."

"Make that ten, you boomer."

"This is an ancient meme you are quoting Yeo~" Wooyoung joined in, trying to poke fun at his friend.

"Say that again, the king of social boomers? Are you salty that I did not put hyung after AMOGUS because it's old?"

"What even is this chat-" Mingi, who was observing from his position lying across three dining chairs, threw the question out into the air.

"It is us trying to force San to dm Y/N by pushing them together like two dolls." Wooyoung, slightly irritated, explained.

"Man, you really are done." Mingi responded, chuckling

"I don't know, am I? San is breaking up with me so I am going through all stages of grief."

"Double u tee eff?" San raised an eyebrow and stared at Wooyoung, phone loose in his hands.

"How far along is she?"

"She isn't pregnant dude."

"Ugh you know what I mean."

"Like... a third of the way?"

"Damn you guys are slow as shit. We planned for this to take how long? You even have the confession already written up for the last chapter, this is kind of ridiculous. You know what, hold up."

Wooyoung tackled San, and thanks to the surprise nature of the attack, got the perfect opportunity to grab his friend's phone. After securing 'the bag', Wooyoung strode off to the other side of the room, clicking away, while San attempted to stand up, shouting.

Yunho seemed to have caught onto what the other was about to do, as he launched himself at the shorter man sat on the sofa and splayed himself right over like a blanket.

"No hard feelings bro this is necessary."

As San way trying to battle his way out, but was further restrained by Yeosang who had finally stopped taking photos, Wooyoung giggled deviously and locked the phone again, sauntering back with a devilish grin and handing it to San.

"It is done. You can thank me later."

"What did you do?"

"Something that you should have done like... a year ago."

"DID YOU TEXT HER?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, nothing Woo-style, you grilled me enough times for me to remember her preferences. Plus, I know how to text like you."

"And when did that come in handy?"

"Uh... I have to go water my fish BYEEE~" Wooyoung quickly departed from the living room sprinting back to the dorm, while San remained in shock, swiping at the screen to reveal the message that his friend had sent on his behalf.

Damn. It really was just like him.

The text came to you as a surprise. Though you have had some conversations over private message before, most of them had been in some way work related. Not San messaging you out of the blue to ask how you were and that you should catch up.

With the group chat all but abandoned, you happily launched into texting San. There was never any pressure for a phone call, which you greatly appreciated, and there was no specific guidelines that either of you enforced - without a care you double, triple, quadruple texted, abruptly disappeared only to reappear with a link or a photo... main things was that together, you kept your conversation alive and thriving.

You would have never, not in a million years, imagined yourself getting this close to San, or anyone with a celebrity status for that matter. Simply because you felt like they would need and deserve more than you could offer socially. You were all about human connection and uniting minds, but when it came to your own personal preferences, you would much rather write out your thoughts in astonishing detail and hit send, than say the same things out loud and to somebody in person.

And yet, contrary to your assumptions and what you could only say had been prejudice on your part, San was supportive of you and of your choices, saying he could 'imagine your voice well enough anyways'. He steered clear of pushing you to communicate in a style that was not yours; though you did enjoy hearing his voice, and would be lying if you said he was not a charmer, you could not bring yourself to reciprocate that approach. It was too overwhelming to do during the time that you had allocated for yourself as your regenerative state. And San made your heart melt by showing that he got that, without you having to tear yourself apart and explain.

To him it had been fairly easy to figure out that you were a text over call kind of person, and was something that he had advertised to the Operation Love Language squad. Given your notes app being packed, post it notes sometimes threatening to pour out of your bag, and him spotting you willingly sitting far away from any groups so you could watch something, earphones in, all pointed to that conclusion. And San found that he liked it more than he would have guessed.

Each text was like a memory, and an expression not only of something that they wanted to blurt out, but more often than not of a considered, weighed out opinion, even if it was onomatopoeia or a string of emojis. He would have never been able to get to know you like he did over text, and get so close to you that you were now happily discussing with him your own worries, and passions, and dreams, not just responding to his stream of musings and questions.

It was through one of these extensive texting sessions that you had revealed to San your endeavors as a freelance translator, and gushed about the commission you were working on.

This made San's thumbs freeze midway through typing. Carried away and impatient, he had tried to strike on all fronts, and now that he was in continuous communication with you, he regretted it. Deeply. Except he did not yet know just how risky the decision to parade as someone he was not could be.

After the first time you had mentioned your side work, he had begun to get progressively more quiet. Bit by bit. Until his responses to you turned almost into a conversation with a wall. You were unable to figure out just what had gotten into San, what had changed?

You turned to the work you were meant to translate as a distraction, expecting that the client would have shared the new chapter with you already... but no such thing.

Instead, there was an order cancellation, and a short apology.

What did you do wrong?

What happened?

Was there something that had not been quite right?

You looked over your already completed translations - you were searching for anything to suggest a reason for cancellation. The words appeared blurry, fading into one big mush. It was all terrible... wasn't it?

Who were you kidding you were probably rusty after not working with fiction for so long, and for not focusing hard enough. You had stopped paying attention to the craft. Who even were you? And interpreter, a translator, or a fraud?

You looked at the cancellation email again, knowing full well that it was pointless to try and reach the customer - they might have blocked you for all you knew. This hurt. This really hurt.

You saw that San had responded to your messages, again in a weirdly cheery tone, asking you how you are and what you have been up to? San would understand... right? San would listen to you...?

So you did something that you yourself did not expect, and pressed on the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

He sounded nervous, and almost tearful as you bared all and talked him through what had just happened. You needed him. He was the only one who had understood your language.

When you told him that you were probably over reacting and just humiliating yourself by being 'so deep in sad mode' over a whole lot of nothing, he instantly was there to catch you and call you out. He emphasised the importance of your work, of the beautiful job you had done so far... but then halted, unsure of how to proceed.

This left you confused. He then picked his words in a strangely careful manner, and almost beginning to side with the customer, saying how maybe it was for the better, and that now at least you could relax and find another project...

"San. This is really unlike you. What is up with that personality switch?"

"What do you mean Y/N? It's nothing-"

"I have an ear for speech, San, if there is anyone who could be a bullshit filter, it is me."

Silence.

More silence.

You were about to call out to him again, when you hear a muffled, barely there whisper:

"I'm sorry..."

You were sent reeling. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?

"I... it was me. Y/N. I am sorry. I really did not mean it to turn out that way I-"

"Okay first of all, why?"

"I..."

"Second of all, whilst I am grateful for your support and stuff, it does make me uncomfortable."

"I'm-"

"Thirdly, actually you know what focus on point number one."

When you did not hear an answer, you tried again: "Hello? I am waiting."

"I like you."

"...What?" you were left in shock.

You had suppressed your feelings for San in the deepest caverns of your soul out of the terror that it was bound to be unrequited, but here you were. Listening to that same man who had supported you from the beginning of your career to now (and exposing yet another ridiculous attempt at that), who had read your quirks and style and knew you better than most. Listening to him confess.

"I... how do I say this... it has been a while. A long while. I have been trying to approach you but... I was either too shy for it, or the attempts were just ridiculous. So we- so I came up with this idea, to try and tell you... this book right. The Beauty of Falling in Love. It is... it spoke to me. And I had planned to give it to you piece by piece until I could then reveal myself to you... but then we started talking outside of that and then I panicked and- yeah, I am... I am just so sorry, this is confusing as hell."

"Wait... wait wait... this is... so were you paying me to get me to like you? Was that what you were doing?"

"GOSH! NO! NO, DON'T MISUNDERSTAND!"

"Look. As much as I do like bringing joy to people through my work, this crosses a line. And it's not the fact that you ordered something from me - hell, support the artist right? It's the fact that you decided to be somebody else. You decided to conceal yourself to talk to me. Like you did not trust me. Even though you want me to like you.

I'll be returning the money to you shortly. M-kay? And... talk on stage, I guess."

Before San could respond, you ended the call sharply. No more phone calls. They were cursed, apparently.

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

---

"Maybe... just maybe if you had seen it through and not abandoned ship... your ship could have sailed?"

"Yunho just because it's your idea does not mean is good!" San retorted, having recounted the story to the members, gone into full crisis mode.

"Hello!? You agreed? I am just generating ideas here."

"I think we all blew this out of proportion and did not consider risks... at all." Mingi interjected, massaging his temples.

"You guys, I have an idea-" Wooyoung began, but was quickly cut off by San, who was already half way out of the door.

"You know what? I am done with the ideas. I will just do what I think is right."

---

You were conflicted. In a way, you had gotten what you wanted. A confession from your crush that you had been quietly keeping in the shadows. But at the same time, your anxiety spiked. Were you that unapproachable that San had to have twisted everything to get to you? Was your work more entertaining than you could ever be?

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

If your presence was not explicitly required at the venue, you would not go. Once an event ended, you would leave. If anything, you were acting just like any employee would.

You were trying to bury the conflicting feelings that you were experiencing. To an extent, you felt disrespected. Like you had been mistreated via the means of 'i am using your translation services so you should love me'. And it was one unpleasant thought.

So, you stuck to what you knew and were more or less confident in. Words that were not yours. ideas that were not yours. Feelings that were not yours.

In a matter of an hour after the first small event, however, you could not sulk in your room how you wanted, thanks to a random slip of paper being shoved under your door. You ran across the room and slammed it open in an attempt to catch the culprit, but there was no one in sight.

You gingerly picked up the papers, and read. It was unmistakable. It was the next chapter of the book, with an interesting translation on another sheet of paper, and an additional note.

"I am sorry, and I can only hope that you will read this and let me fight. <3 San"

As much as you were ready to forgive him then and there, you decided that you wanted to see just how far he was going to go.

The next morning - another letter had arrived. The next chapter, a translation, and another note.

During filming for a morning show, San had shot you numerous glances in an attempt to see whether you were even reading what he had been Amazon Priming to your room, but with a cheeky smile dancing on your lips, you let your fun continue.

Another package.

And another.

And another. Until, finally, the last chapter had arrived. At least that was what you thought right up until the evening of the same day. You had assumed that it was going to now be your turn to act, or at least to start talking again, but a loud knock jolted you out of your thoughts.

And another.

And another knock on the door. This man was an unstoppable force.

"I... I translated the last one. Well, tried to."

"But there were only eleven stories-"

"Nope, twelve. Here."

You saw a two pieces of paper appear from under the door, just like before. Except instead of the Korean page being a scan from the book, it was evidently a document that either San... or somebody else, had typed up, and then managed to print.

To be respectful, you attempted to read the Japanese, but soon enough gave up since the kanji somehow managed to look cursive, and instead took the Korean text in your hands.

You took a seat with your back against the door and knees almost flush against your chest, and began to read, your heart rate picking up pace as soon as you saw "Dear Y/N,".

It began as a little story. A re-telling of how both of you had met, and how you had come to own a little space in his heart, eventually leading to him simply giving it to you.

"Did you know that you look so beautiful in those moments when you don't think anyone is watching? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it has been what had drawn me in. How you typed and typed on your phone. If time allowed, I liked to try guessing whether you were going to switch the keyboard at some point or not. How you were and are in your element. And of course, how you are, simply, you."

He recalled the moments that you two had shared. The levels of pride and admiration he felt when he saw you being approached and congratulated by the fans, and when he could take a moment to just enjoy what you did.

San moved to explaining 'the plan' to you, and though you were ready to scold him then and there (especially since there was the door between you that made confrontation easier), you could not help but admit that the general notion (aside from making affection and crushing on someone a monetary exchange - better not put feels on Etsy) was heartwarming.

As it turned out, both of you were shy dorks who could not act on feelings. Admittedly, one of you was a LOUD shy dork and the other a 'language is life but still can't read between the lines' shy dork, but at least you made it here.

San was a nervous wreck, barely stopping himself from either pacing up and down the corridor or going into a meltdown and lying face down on the carpet. He already looked suspicious enough as is, just standing by a random hotel number like a vampire who had been refused entry.

Or perhaps more accurately, like a cat who had been shut out of the house and was now desperately trying to claw its way back in.

But that stress was quickly washed away when your form suddenly appeared before him, peeking out, drowning in an oversized hoodie. The papers were still clenched in your hand as you motioned for San to come in.

You waited until he was right in the middle of the room before closing the door. Part of you was afraid that he was going to nope out at any moment. You needed the reassurance. The confidence that was normally there when you were working. But every fiber of your being was screaming in protest, wanting simply to hide.

You observed him. He looked like he was barely breathing.

"I... really I am... so sorry... again... I know that it was so fooli-"

"私でもあなたのことが好きだ..." (I like you too)

"eXCUSEME?!"

"All this translating and you still can't process?" you joked, but began to pull on the drawstrings of your hoodie in an attempt to make your face disappear.

"ohHH NoONOOO I just want to hear you say it in every language that you know!!!" San exclaimed and in a matter of seconds was inches away, peeking at what was not yet concealed by the fluffy cotton.

As he leaned closer and closer, flustering you (and himself) in the process and took both of your hands in his, in the last leap of bravery you whispered:

"Well that, you'll have to earn, San. And I don't take traditional currency."

"You will never let that go."

"Never ever, Choi San, it's a core memory now."

"Well hey at least it means you are not letting go of me~"

"Oh the way you twist words..."

"Like you twist me around your finger, not to give you an ego trip or anything..."

"It's 'wrap'. The correct word is 'wrap' around a finger."

"Okay you know what how about I translate it to body language?" he puckered his lips, making you giggle.

"As long as I don't need to correct grammatical errors."

"Now now I'd say I'm fluent."

The habit of sliding notes under your door or passing them to you did not stop - it only got stronger and became an 'any location', Mission Impossible note transfer agreement.

It had become something of a game, muddling languages together and writing near-nonsense just to sit there almost crying, trying not to laugh.

Soon enough, the game spread to Wooyoung, who would on occasion intercept the messages and add in his own flair, and soon enough to a curious Yunho and Mingi, who then turned it into impromptu paper plane throwing tournaments.

Really, the only reason why Hongjoong did not intercept was because you managed to at least keep the messages under strict PG rating and had good aim - with a saving swoop you had managed to return one such airmail right into San's lap during a fan sign, leading ATINY to give you an additional "aimbot" title.

It did not matter what the schedule was, you left each other encouraging notes (and without the other knowing, stored them away in your luggage).

"Good luck being the first one to get hair and makeup done..."

"Good luck with the translation deal on the book <3" (after an entire evening of a pouting and pleading San, you had reached out to the editors of the romance book you had translated for him, and now were in very promising negotiations)

You raced ahead, in time with each other, creating your own language.

The extended time ATEEZ had spent in Japan was coming to an end, and in the blink of an eye, it was the final concert. The "closing remarks", the epilogue.

You were prepared to interpret in full, as always. One member down. Another... finally, it was only San left. The other members were looking at him expectantly, while some sent glances in your approximate direction.

You took Hongjoong's tranquility and him nudging San in the shoulder as a sign that no, you will not have to pretend he said something different and double speak it - whatever he was about to do was, apparently, captain certified.

At that moment, San pulled out a note from a pocket that you had no idea even existed. The action seemed to have the same effect on ATINY as they "oooohed" - Yunho fake whispered into the microphone that San was now a part-time magician, so these things were the norm.

You had your microphone at the ready. With bated breath, you waited for San to begin. And that, he did.

In Japanese.

Grammatically correct, coherent and well-delivered Japanese.

Even though some of the phrases were obviously not his style and word selection, leading you to imagine him poring over this text like he was writing the declaration of independence with the boys, it was him. It was his feeling. It was his message.

Your arm fell to your side with a thud, and you were grateful that your microphone had been turned off for the time being. You caught yourself gaping, and had to forcibly compose yourself to reveal only a soft smile, as you took the scene in.

San was not exactly trying to hide that he was paying special attention to a specific part of the arena, with his body turned almost completely in your direction and only a few glances off to the sides and at the note.

"...and I hope that we will always be together, as one, and share this world. sometimes there may be struggle, there may be darkness, but WE," he makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if highlighting the area in front of him, but really it was just to, again, symbolise that certain someone at the forefront of his mind, "will last, and be the light."

The crowd roared, and you could allow yourself to internally combust as you watched ATEEZ wave, bow and bid their farewells.

Some things did not need a translation to be understood, and some things were not up for interpretation.

Like how San sprinted to you as soon as he was out of public sight. How he swept you off your feet both literally and metaphorically.

How Jongho muttered 'get a room', but still smiled at both of you when he passed by.

How, upon your return to South Korea, he had practically made it his mission to dote on you, and any moment he got, show that you were together.

Matching plushies? Check.

Basically exposing you both on Late Night Dive (though there was not really anything to expose because the entire ordeal was almost a live streamed ATEEZ drama)? Check.

Happily chatting away with ATINY about love and about finding it, sending loving stares your way? Check.

This was the love language you shared. No hiding, no scheming. Two native speakers, who found each other in translation.