#but realistically he probably IS miserable all the time

[lizhly-writes]

hey guys do you wanna hear about my bad idea ahahaha i'm just joking i'm going to tell you whether you like it or not.

anyway! au where jiang fengmian brings back a starving orphan from the streets, and his name is yue qi.

(what happened to wei wuxian? don't worry about it it's fine) (idk maybe he doesn't exist? whatever)

yue qi is strong. yue qi is talented. yue qi tries harder than anyone. yue qi is perfect and you can't even really be irritated at him for it, because he's nice and polite and good-tempered and absolutely everything you could ask for in a da-shixiong.

jiang cheng feels so fucking bad about this. second best even in a whole new au, huh, a-cheng? but it's not your fault. even op protagonist bing-ge couldn't beat yue qi in a fair fight!

nobody knows this, though, so you're just going to have to suffer through the comparisons. it's your mom and your dad and all the little disciples thinking that yue qi is better than you. ooooh, that can't be good for that burgeoning inferiority complex your mom's instilled in you, huh?

but, you know. jiang cheng's going to be sect leader. he's going to need a strong sect. even if his mom fuckin bitches at him for not being as good as yue qi -- yue qingyuan -- then at least he's going to have a strong right hand, right?

HAHAHAHA.

so there are two routes we can go here. for the sake of my early morning ramblings, we're going to go for the more unrealistic one that requires me to jump through more hoops, because i think it's hilarious.

yue qingyuan starts getting more distant as he gets older. going on long nighthunts away from the lotus pier, you know. he stops leading the disciples in morning drills -- or, well, it's less that he stops, and more that he's not around to actually do that.

he's not around a lot.

snide, snide commentary about how yue qingyuan is going to run away to become a rogue cultivator, just like -- (but we don't talk about them). how yue qingyuan's not going to be da-shixiong for much longer. every time yue qingyuan returns to lotus pier, he seems to be more tired, more wound up, more stressed out --

and then everything stops. yue qingyuan comes back one day emotionally catatonic. he doesn't respond properly when people talk to him. unrelatedly (of course it's unrelated), there is some wailing and weeping in the night. some little shidi thinks that somehow a resentful ghost has made it into the pier and alerts da-shixiong about it in the morning.

thankfully, da-shixiong is back to normal in the morning. "i'll take a look," da-shixiong says, and then everybody forgets about it because da-shixiong is back and da-shixiong stops going on those long nighthunts away and everything is fiiiinnnne, don't worry. and if da-shixiong is a bit more brittle after that -- well, you're probably just imagining it.

jiang cheng worries about it. but yue qingyuan never says anything, because that's what yue qingyuan does. he never says annnnnnything to anyone.

of course, there's only so long you can argue with da-shixiong when the plot is coming up. gusu happens. the wens happen.

jiang cheng and yue qingyuan get sent to the wen evil summer camp, or whatever it's called. indoctrination, right?

lectures. drills. meaningless busy work for the sake of beating people down. obedience, and more obedience. there's a wen staring down every class, just waiting for them to slip up. there's one in particular that seems to have it out for yue qingyuan, sharp mouthed and pointy and HAHAHA OKAY, you've probably guessed who this is, haven't you? you're a genre-savvy audience, i bet!

ah, but i'll spell it out anyway, don't worry. for a-cheng, maybe, because jiang cheng can't guess, because yue qingyuan doesn't tell him anything. jiang cheng's out of the loop, on the outside, like he always is with yue qingyuan. don't worry, jiang cheng -- you're not special. he treats you like he treats everyone else.

but ah, that's the problem, isn't it?

jiang cheng stumbles over da-shixiong at night, past curfew, arguing with the wen. or, really, it's not arguing -- the wen is verbally eviscerating him, and yue qingyuan is just letting him. attacks on yue qingyuan's character and talent and everything, and about how yue qi's CLEARLY found a replacement (replacement? what does that mean?) and fine, you think you're so respectable now, of course only a high-bred sect heir is good for you (that jiang-gongzi, do you think he's a better version of me) (is this the version of me you've always wanted?) --

all yue qingyuan says is "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry--"

there's got to be one question on your mind, huh, a-cheng? yue qingyuan seems to know this wen. pretty well, it seems -- those insults aren't generic, this seems personal. why? how?

who the hell is wen qingqiu?

[eddiediazismyhusband]

thinking about the possibility of eddie’s sexuality crisis coming after buddie canon like…

he and buck start dating and in eddie’s mind he’s justifying it like “i’m not really into men im just into buck” and buck is the supportive boyfriend bc obviously eddie’s the only one who knows himself, and eddie labeling himself doesn’t matter to buck bc all that matters is that they’re the happiest they’ve ever been together

but then they have sex for the first time (obviously we don’t see anything bc this is abc not hbo) but while buck is in this perfectly blissed out state, eddie is panicking bc holy shit… is that what sex is supposed to feel like? like i thought i enjoyed sex before because i got off and that was that but this was…. what the fuck?????

and we get this sort if spiral moment where eddie wonders if he’s been gay this whole time and has just been lying to himself and is wondering what that means for him and shannon? like yeah he moved on from her but… looking back did he ever really need to? were the feelings for his girlfriends just misplaced feelings for buck this whole time? has he always felt this way?

and it gets to a point where buck thinks eddie is pulling away from him, and he gets really in his head about it remembering when eddie said that sex just complicates things, and how eddie had that whole crisis over marisol, and then buck had broken up with temu and chris was in texas so both of them were in weird places mentally and oh my god did i force myself on him? is he miserable bc he realized im not actually what he wants? is he going to leave me like everyone else does?

and meanwhile eddie is in therapy telling frank that he’s never felt this way about anyone before and that he thought he was enjoying sex before but it had never been anything like what it was with buck- that before it had been a means to an end but with buck it just felt right… and then frank has a really deep conversation about sexuality and eddie’s catholic guilt and explains that only eddie can decide if labeling himself is important or not

then we get eddie making a choice to either label himself or to not label himself (bc all that matters is that bucn is who he wants to be with; im not picky bc i have always been a gay/demi eddie truther, but unlabeled eddie has so much playing room and they could explore so much with that but i also know that realistically they probably wouldn’t put that much thought into the actual label but i digress)

and then we get a Kitchen Scene™️ where they are both super quiet and eddie tells buck they need to talk; buck automatically assumes eddie’s breaking up with him and starts apologizing to eddie and telling him he will give eddie some time and space, telling eddie that he will move on eventually like he has from everyone else. eddie is like “what?” and buck is like “aren’t you breaking up with me?” and eddue is horrified bc oh my god have i really been that distant? has my crisis really pushed me away that much that i made him think i wouldn’t tilt the earth on its axis for him if he asked??? and eddie explains his side of things, ending his little speech by saying “i love you” for the first time, and buck gets teary eyed and says it back and they share a soft kiss and eddie is like “it’s never felt like that before” and buck admits “it’s never felt like that for me either… but i think that’s what being in love does” and the episode ends with a fade to black of eddie leading buck out of the kitchen and down the hallway

[morbidlcve]

taking nat on an arcade date and miserably failing to impress her by winning her a plushie?

an: kinda switched to a sort of carnival thingy, i hope you don't mind!!

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 0.8k!

"It will be fun", you groan at Natasha, who is reluctant to take you to the fair that has popped up in a nearby park. "Pretty please," you whimper, giving her a look you know she can't resist. "Fine," she sighs, "Only if it makes you happy" she says her eyes flickering back to the road. She turns on her indicator and steers left to find a parking space.

When parked safely, you jump out of the car and pull her to the stalls. Finding hook-a-duck, you grab some change from your pocket and pay the old man working the game. You had three chanced to hook a duck with a certain color painted on the bottom to win a prize.

Much to your dismay, you lost all three times, making you walk away sheepishly from the old man and the cable-tied plushies to the posts. Natasha smiled sadly at you, holding your hand and guiding you towards another game.

The next game was a basketball game, to win you had to shoot five nets in a row. You tried your hardest at throwing the ball into the hoops, yet on your 5th one it bounced and fell into the slope shaped net. You were determined to win the next one.

"You know, I'm completely convinced that these games just give you a run for your money, barely anyone wins, and if they do, I wouldn't even like to know how much money is spent", you complain to Natasha as she stands in a queue for a pretzel.

She smiles at your whining and kisses you. to make you feel better. "Why do you want to win so badly my love?" she asks you, stepping forward in the line. "I want to win you a prize" you mutter looking down at your feet kicking the grass lightly.

"Oh, babe, you don't have to do that. You're the best prize I could ever want," she smirks at you, and you gasp. "That is so cheesy, Romanoff."

You try more and more stalls and continue to fail miserably. You are so close to giving up. But when Natasha spots a throwing darts at balloons game, she's quick to pull you along. "Two separate games, please," she says to the woman, smiling kindly.

The woman gives you each five darts. If you are both able to pop all five of the same color balloons, you will both win. "I bet you can't beat me," she smiles. You think she's probably right; given her history, you're most definitely doomed.

You both throw. Natasha's dart lands on a blur balloon, meaning she's got to pop four more blue balloons, and yours lands on red. She pops another blue, and you pop another red. And the same again. You feel your heart start to get sweaty, two more reds are all you need.

You don't understand how nervous you are about a game. Might it just be your competition? This whole night has been quite a humiliation for you. Pulling Natasha along with you, watching you lose at these games for two hours, it's embarrassing. You're determined to win.

You take a steady breath, adjust your stance, focus on where you want the dart to go, and throw it. You squeal when you see it land on a red. Looking over at Natasha, you see her focused on the game but a small smile is tugging at her lips.

You look down at the floor, take another deep breath, wipe your hands on your t-shirt, and pick up the final dart. Your arm rocks back and forth, getting the right movement to throw it at your target.

A little boy behind you cheers you on, and you smile, letting the dart go. The little boy runs up to you to give you a high five when it lands on the red balloon. You grin when Natasha kisses you. "I knew you could do it," she sighs against you. Natasha's dart also got blue, so you tied realistically.

Natasha chose a teenage mutant ninja turtle plushie and gave it to the little boy still dancing around over your victory. Your heart melts as you see her interact with him. He wraps his flailing arms around her and spins, them two around. Natasha chuckles down at him and says her goodbyes.

You, on the other hand, chose something that was much more Natasha. When she sees you holding something behind your back, she raises her eyebrows. You giggle as you pull out a little black widow teddy.

Her jaw hands open before giggling, taking the miniature version of herself from your hands. "Thank you baby" she laughs, wrapping you in a hug. You gently kiss her neck as you two stand there, off to the side of all the festivity in each others arms. "I suppose we should go home now" she says, holding your face, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Yeah, probably", you smile, taking her hand and heading back to the car park.

[thebearer]

hii I though it would be cool if you show what the atmosphere would be like when reader and Teddy visit the bear for the first time since the fight? Maybe for their family dinner? Also I totally love ur work, super cool

relief lol. genuinely relief.

like they knew carmen was getting better. he’s still so fucking private but he ducks out early every tuesdays and thursdays in the middle of prep and they all pretend they don’t know where he’s going, but they know he’s going to his therapist.

still there’s this kinda tense vibe even after you’ve went back home. carmen seems better, and it’s not out of the ordinary that you haven’t shown up bc teddy is so little, but they’re still a little like “oh shit what if she left him?”

until you show up unannounced at family with baby teddy. she’s bigger now, it’s less of a risk and you’ve missed seeing them. probably after you and carm have settled back to normal (post smut lol let’s be real) and you come to see everyone.

tina actually sighs of relief. like she is so fucking happy bc she nearly killed carmen. wouldn’t talk to him for weeks, weeks, it was like worse than when he started. a worse cold shoulder bc she heard a sliver of what he did (not even the whole thing).

I do think they all see a change with him. that they don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. he’s not blowing up as more anymore. tried to talk calmly and not lose his shit when things get out of control. talks more instead of bottling things up. actually lets other people do things. and follows through. both at the restaurant and at home.

definitely is more appreciative in general. not so mean and doom and gloom. i feel like he got called out by someone (richie or jimmy i can’t decide), “I don’t know why you’re so fuckin’ miserable all the time. what more do you want? you got a wife, a healthy baby, a successful business, and a family that’s- yeah, it’s kinda fucked up- but they love you.”

and that really floored him bc that is genuinely all he ever wanted. it was stuff he never thought he’d have and now he does and he’s still sad and moody and mean all the time?

he’s so touchy at family dinner. everyone’s coping over teddy, and so you actually get to eat a meal without juggling. carmen’s not overly pda (let’s be realistic, it’s carmen) but he kisses you when he greets you (HUGE lol) and keeps his hand on your thigh. looks at you with the most lovestruck gaze while you giggle and talk with the others. just complete adoration. he always has but it’s different now.

[groundzerosgirlfriend]

Traits they would want in a partner:

Senku Ishigami

(This unedited so dont @ me)

Firstly. IF you ever manage to get into a relationship with the man known as Senku Ishigami you probably deserve some kind of award for having to deal with this man’s crazed scientist bullshit every day. He literally doesn’t change one bit, he's still the same Senku that’s blunt, mean, hates physical affection and mushy words. The reward for the least romantic boyfriend goes to *drumroll effect* SENKU!

Senku probably prefers someone that’s he known for a really long time I’m talking since he was at least in junior high but the further back the better and if you were in the science club with him back in high school fantastic. Meeting new people is one thing but actually having romantic feelings for them is a whole other ball game. It’s easier and less work when liking someone who already knows him inside out and vice versa instead of having to do the whole cliché ‘get to know each other’ façade over and over again.

Also, I feel like Senku has only had like maybe 2 crushes in his entire lifetime: one was some famous scientist he saw on tv talking at a press conference at the head of the table in a room full of men and the other one was in his first year of junior high when he was bested at a mathlete competition (in his defense he pulled the most brutal all-nighter the night before while working on some insane project and messed up the placement of a decimal point) by a girl who wore the chunkiest pair of glasses known to man. He quickly got over both as he had learned that realistic the possibility of this famous scientist (who was also married) falling in love with a prepubescent boy was damn near impossible (and illegal) and the girl he liked in school ended up coming out as a lesbian when she and another girl were caught kissing each other's cheek during break time.

Senku probably likes individuals that are independent and self-sufficient like Kohaku (girl boss!!) People that are clingy and to needy are not his forte’ and makes his face sneer or deadpan brutally. He doesn’t like physical affection or words of affirmation on most days he’s more of a quality time (slaving over more experiments with you doing physical labor) and gift giving (making you little trinkets from his science experiments). I mean it’s pretty obvious remember that one episode where Senku’s own dad was about to give a long emotional speech on the record but stopped because he knew Senku would ew at it. So if you’re somebody that thrives off of praise and attention then *opens the door* please see yourself out respectfully because this man is not going to give it to you. You'll be like a little dried up cactus begging for attention.

Senku likes cleanliness and organization. Senku himself is very clean and hygienic. People that are not are usually big turn off and and an even bigger *thumbs down* for him. He’s also organized despite how his experiments and projects seem to be all over the place they’re not. He knows exactly where everything is, the exact millimeter of, every beaker, of every pipette, of every pencil. It's called organized chaos. If one thing is moved without his consent or worse, his knowledge the entire room is thrown off and he has a hard time finding anything for the next 12 hours.

Personal opinion here but I feel like Senku has as dislike for bugs. Like sure. Bugs are cool to explore and on a scientific level sure but anything other than that he’s not really cheering for joy about it. I also feel like he despises getting sick, like literally any type of sickness whether it’s the common influenzas virus or even a slight stomach bug. He’s miserable and irritated and it takes a really long time to get better because although the scientist in him tells him he needs to rest the stubborn workaholic in him tells him he’ll be fine to do a few minutes of work (which ends up turning into hours-please make this man rest🙏🙏). So if you’re the type where you’re unhygienic to the point of constantly being sick or attracting like actual bugs then either you’re going to have pick up the slack on your hygiene or leave realll quick.

Senku also likes people that smart either intellectually or when they’re witty and have a sharp mouth. If they can understand and even better add in their own input when he’s going on and on about different types of minerals sharing his excitement when they make a scientific breakthrough in the stone world he thinks if he didn't believe marriage was a social construction he'd get down on one knee with some sparkly rock he *borrowed* from Chrome's rock collection. Now even if his partner isn’t all into the science *blah blah* cells *blah blah* quantum mechanics and Schrodinger's equation a partner who is sharp on his mouth will suffice jussst as well. It's makes him snicker the tiniest bit turning his head away so no one can see the grin covered on his mouth covered by his hands. People who are blunt and not softspoken are a *big thumbs* in Senku’s book why would someone who has something to say not say it? A waste of time in his head.

Senku likes a willingness to learn even if it's just about they like every now and again. He knows that science is a high broad topic that covers from up into the vacuum known as space or as to the deep as the aquatic volcanoes known in the deep blue ocean. And he knows about it all in that gorgeous brain of his. In Senku's mind everything thing revolves around science, walking-the physiology of cells to tissues, tissues to muscles and neurological brain activity to make voluntary commands, art- the primary colors created by the art starting from things like mud, bugs and fruits, oh chemicals- easy it all starts with the period table of elements starting from hydrogen all the way down to Ogganseon. Anything you like any hobby you enjoy has to involve some kind of science and if you ask some him some questions about how it works or at least how it originates he knows that somewhere in you have the curiosity of a scientist.

Likes athleticism....maybe? Honestly, I'm kind of unsure about this one because on one hand I can see him liking people that are athletic and physically fit not because he thinks that being skinny is better or anything like that but because he can definitely use you like a horse (do yall know like those short mini scenes between the episodes where Senku like dresses up as different jobs imagine him as a farmer with a straw hat on his head in overalls a piece of straw in his mouth and a riding crop in one hand whew😩😩😩) for a lot of physical labor don't worry he'll return your hard work with a treat of your choice but be prepared he will complain about your laziness and wanting to help 'humanity' but on the other hand I could see him liking people that get winded and red faced after walking up stairs or carrying a bucket of water just like he does (extra points if it's a guy like him) because if you're both low stamina and low endurance you can't tease him about his athletic abilities. So a tie maybe.

Lastly, LOVES a strong will and determination he knows that starting the stone world back to modern humanity from scratch is no easy feat hell even he has made a few mistakes while trying to figure himself out. But what he does know is that science is filled with trail and error (mostly error) and it takes a loooot of time before you actually get what you're looking for so if you're the type to give up easily after failing once or twice and turn your back to his goal of turning the world back into the modern society he once had then....I'm sorry to say it probably won't work out for you there's only so many motivational speeches this man can give before he gets annoyed and just lets you give up without any reassurance (don't worry he doesn't take it personal), besides he still has people like Chrome, Sukia, and Kohaku to help.

@instanthideoutsalad I know you said you wanted Soft Boyfriend Head cannons of Senku but I'm so uninspired with those at the moment so please accept my humble offering of this drabble I made🙏🙏🙏🙏. I swear I'll do it soon it soon. 😪😪

[lavender-romancer]

Push it Down

Astarion x GN Reader

Everyday it got worse, the longing stares interrupted when La’zel would curiously catch your eyeline always straying to Astarion. Or how you would always inextricably walk next to him regardless of the goal ahead. Shadowheart would often question if Astarion had to open “every lock we find” at your request. But you couldn't help it, being near him, with him was all you would think about

AN: Astarion brainrot is a real condition people. Lots of lovely fluff.

You're a squishy wizard

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

“Do you have to make your feelings so obvious that it's painful?” Shadowheart asked as you looked through some random boxes you found in what remained of moonhaven.

“Do you have to bring this up again?” You jabbed back with a smile. “I'm not ashamed of it, but I will never outright admit it.”

“Lady of Sorrows guide you, I don't know how you're able to stand with your debilitating lack of a spine.” She raised her eyebrow and you simply rolled your eyes “Here, go give these to your boy-toy.” Handing you a few thieves' tools Shadowheart walked to another side of the room and continued looting.

You scampered outside, only realising when you were in front of Astarion how desperate it must have looked to run up to him like a dog wagging its tail excitedly. He was unlocking a chest that was one in a big group La'zel and Karlach had put together for him to deal with.

“Here,” you held out the tools with a smile that was much too big for such a small token.

“Thank you, darling.” He smiled up at you. “You're looking particularly overjoyed, what's got you so energetic?”

“Uh… looting.” You never were good at lying.

“Thank the Gods you never became a politician because your inability to deceive is one of your greatest qualities.” He opened the chest he had been working on.

“I suppose. But I wish I was better at more things like that, it just makes me so nervous to not be honest.” You fidgeted with your hands.

“Well, for starters you need to be better at improvising, it is adorable to see you try and lie to anyone and fail miserably. I'm convinced you should just be completely honest and people might not believe you.” Standing up he brushed the dust off his trousers and you were now face to face. Given, a few steps apart but it still made you smile and your feet shuffle anxiously.

“The tadpole has definitely made me better at lying, you have to at least admit that.” You were practically beaming, staring at him in awe.

“Still, you carry most of your emotions in your eyes and your inability to stop smiling. You'll get there eventually my friend, probably, I mean probably not but it's very sweet that you continue to try. Anyways, we should head back to camp for the evening I am positively spent.” Astarion walked past you to pick up his backpack and you internally groaned.

It was so deeply embarrassing when you couldn't keep your emotions hidden. A problem you had usually put down to anxiousness, but realistically it was just something you had to learn to live with. You were an open book with almost no air of mystique about you. Maybe that was why Astarion seemed so utterly uninterested in seeking anything but friendship or a quick night of passion.

As you lay in your tent, you conjured a mage hand to throw books at you to try and practice your telekinesis but it was going dreadfully. Whilst your magic was growing back to it's former strength before the tadpole you were still plagued by poor reaction times to basically anything. One quite powerful throw from the conjured hand hit your arm and you yelped, sure that it would leave a bruise.

“What mischief are you up too now?” A voice suddenly asked, distracting you from the task at hand as a book hit you square in the face.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, dismissing the mage hand and rubbing your nose.

“Are you trying to be agile again? You know how that ended up last time.” Astarion joked as he entered your tent and sat down opposite you.

A funny but painful memory entered your mind when you had tried to climb over a very small wall to surprise some goblins and had instead ended up on your back in front of them. If falling over in front of some goblins wasn't bad enough, you had also slipped in grease that was extremely easy to avoid alerting the whole horde to your party's location. The bollocking you got from La'zel after that encounter made you promise to work on your ability to not be “such a fucking Wizard” whatever that meant.

“No, surprisingly I was failing at something else.” You quipped back at him, “anyways, did you want to feed or-”

“No, well yes but, I wanted to talk to you.” He licked his lips absentmindedly and seeing the slight glint of his fangs off the light of your candle made your eyes grow wider. You never knew you'd have a thing for vampires…

“Oh! Do uhm, talk away.” You cringed at your inability to string a sentence together.

“I- look. I know that I am beautiful and wonderful darling, but have you been looking at me slightly differently lately?” he asked, you could almost sense that he was nervous but you weren't sure why.

“What do you mean?” You responded with your eyes fixated on your bedroll on the floor as the alarm bells rang in your head.

“With more longing behind your eyes?” You hadn't noticed that same longing in his eyes which was often present in your gaze.

“Who- I- why did you get that impression?” You fumbled through your words and began fiddling with your robe.

“Oh, I…” he trailed off and you finally looked up, sensing his dejected tone you cocked your head.

“You sound disappointed.” Your tone was soft in an attempt to stop him from running away from the conversation.

“Disappointed? Darling if I wanted you I could most certainly have you.” Having returned to his snarky sense of security you frowned.

“Is that why you seem so annoyed? Because I rejected you before?” Your mind went back to drinking red wine with him, the sour taste filling your nose all over again. It wasn't that you didn't want him, you just didn't want the first time you could spend the night with him to be clouded with alcohol and regret. Maybe it had bruised his ego but there were so many reasons to try to let your bond grow overtime.

“You think that wounded me? I have laid with thousands and I'll lay with thousands more before I am hurt by that!” He exclaimed but you could see the hurt in his eyes that he struggled to hide.

“I didn't want it to be like that. Something that you might feel like was a mistake, a drunken mishap you'd rather forget. I didn't- I don't want you to think I did it because I did not want it. Under different circumstances things would have been different for me.” Clasping your hands together you tried to reach his gaze but it was so accusatory that it was making your heart pound.

“I- I don't think I've ever been rejected as tactfully as you did.” Astarion almost laughed with a far-away look in his eyes.

“It didn't feel genuine and I couldn't allow myself to be swept up in all of it knowing that we weren't on the same page with our feelings about one another.” Smiling sadly you looked at the book that had previously hit you in the face, pushing it to the side you moved a bit closer to him. “I'm sorry that you felt like you had to do that, that night I mean. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.”

“I'm not sure how you know me so well that it's almost concerning.” His voice sounded strained as he departed from his snarky performative notes.

“You've become my favourite distraction through all of this shit we've dealt with. I really like being around you, it will be a shame when it all comes to an end when we get to Baldurs Gate.” your voice didn't show your true sadness but your eyes certainly did and Astarion could tell.

“I was hidden for so many years within those city walls, imprisoned and kept as a loyal pet before the nautiloid. A grim reality was the only way to escape the even worse life I was living and… I never thought I'd make friends let alone feel connected to someone. But you, you're thoughtful and sweet and respectful and too perceptive for your own good but so silly and honestly so bad as hiding that it's hilarious. Finding someone who understands you is a great gift and I would not like to squander it.” Astarion reached out his hand and it shook slightly as he showed his true vulnerability. You looked from his hand to his face, it was genuine and really from everything you could gather, it seemed like he was being the most honest he'd ever been with you.

“You want to stay together?” Your voice was so hopeful as your head told you that you were an idiot.

“Yes. You fool. Was that not clear. Now hold my hand so we're not both fools.” He rolled his eyes and you hurriedly held his hand. Your clamminess was immediately obvious given his hand was ridiculously cold. “God you mortals are always sweaty aren't you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and you had to laugh or you'd descend into an anxiety ridden madness.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? I would enjoy a cuddle.” You asked.

“Just a cuddle Darling?” He flirted but there was still that look behind his eyes that was there after the tiefling party. The look you had come to understand was the dogma drilled into him to seduce, sleep with and then sacrifice all his conquests. Sex wasn't the same in Astarion's head as it was in yours but you didn't mind, it wasn't important to you.

“Just a cuddle.” You smiled in a way that you hoped was supportive and whilst he looked surprised he didn't seem disappointed. “Come here,” you lay down on the pillows and invited him to chest.

Whilst tentative he rested his head on your chest and slowly placed his hand on your arm. You without warning wrapped your arms around him in a squeeze of a hug that would probably suffocate someone who wasn't already dead. But he seemed to appreciate it as he nuzzled under your chin and his body began to relax. You stayed like that for a while until you began to snore and Astarion peeled himself from your embrace. He sat up and started to read, every so often glancing down at you. How an earth had he allowed himself to fall for a Wizard?

Astarion Taglist:

@anukulee

[ayyy-pee]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3: 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒏

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Choso x f! Reader

Summary: Things take a turn.

Chapter Warnings: Angst...

WC: 6.6k

Choso Art By:NC9__

**While not all chapters contain adult content, the themes of this story are targeted towards adults, so minors DNI please.

No one warned you just how difficult university would be.

Your first semester of college has been kicking your ass in all honesty. Between your art projects, extracurriculars and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, you’re completely burnt out. It was quite the adjustment from high school where teachers stayed on you about your school work and assignments. You'd learned very quickly that now, one was responsible for you but you.

At 19, it was a true test of your maturity. And you were failing that test quite miserably.

“I have one last project due and then I’ll finally be able to breathe. This professor has been up my ass all semester. I can’t wait for winter break and to be done with his class.” You set your bags down on your desk before you adjust your cell phone between your cheek and shoulder. “Sorry to rant. How are you all doing?”

A deep voice rumbles on the other end of the line with a laugh that makes your cheeks warm every time you hear it.

“Hey, it’s no problem. I’m just happy to hear from you. At least you’re letting me know what to realistically expect when I start school next year.” You hear shifting on the other side and you know he’s getting comfortable, probably in bed. “Yuji’s good. He’s also getting ready for winter break so he’ll be home most of the time. Eso’s been struggling with algebra, but Kechizu is surprisingly good at it. He’s been helping him study and–”

You listen closely, hanging on every word falling from your friend’s lips as he catches you up on his brother’s lives. It’s been a few months since you’ve spoken to Choso over the phone. While you’d keep in touch after the summer months until you were back on the beach, you’ve both been busy with your new normal. You haven’t seen Choso either, your first year of college being surprisingly more difficult than you’d expected so you opted for summer classes in hopes to maintain your GPA instead of taking your annual trip with your parents.

It was the first time since you were 9 that you hadn’t gone back to the beach. Your parents reluctantly returned without you your first summer in university, only after you had pushed them to enjoy a romantic vacation together for once. You remember the pictures you’d received from your mother the night they got into town. She was quick to spam you with pictures of your little pink haired friend who had grown even taller since the last time you’d seen him. She’d also sent a photo of all four of the brothers sitting at your dinner table, just as they always did on your first night in town since you were all kids.

It was reminiscent of all the summers you’d spent together growing up, except there was a noticeable gap where you’d usually be sitting, right between Choso and Yuji. As your eyes roamed over every detail, every way the boys had grown and changed, you couldn’t help the pang of disappointment you felt from missing out on this. You wanted to see them, hug them, be with them and enjoy your summer together. But you couldn’t. And it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

It hurt that you wouldn’t spend days and nights at the beach. You wouldn’t be taking Yuji all over the town with you and spoiling him rotten like you always have. You wouldn’t be climbing out of your bedroom window to sneak out to parties. You wouldn’t be working the summer at Panda’s, closing shop and sitting at the shoreline to watch the sunsets with Choso.

Choso…

Your eyes were locked on the tall figure in the photo and you found yourself pinching your thumb and index finger together, pressing them to your phone screen before expanding and zooming in on the picture. He was wearing his signature tiny smile that he reserved only for you and your family. Those same pigtails that have sat atop his head since he was 10 years old were still there, but that baby face was long gone. He was all chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones now, even more handsome than when you saw him last summer, if possible, and your heart fluttered at the thought. 

You stared at those dark eyes that had peered into yours that cool summer night last year as he leaned closer, those soft lips that pressed against your mouth as you exchanged your first kisses with each other. Those lips…they consumed your thoughts. Those lips that uttered those three words that still kept you up at night as they echoed through your mind:

“Just one more.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, to the tips of your ears and you could hear the blood rushing through your body as the memories played clearly through your mind.

The slight tilt of Choso’s head as he deepened the kiss just barely. The way you gasped when his tongue gently ran along the seam of your lip. How he sighed, low and deep when he heard the little sounds you were making and all because of him.

Neither you nor Choso have spoken about your first kiss since it happened. He’d walked you home from the beach that night, hugged you tight one last time and then you spent the remainder of the night clutching at your chest, desperately willing your heart to calm down.

“You still there?” Choso’s voice pulls you from your trip down memory lane and you clear your throat to buy yourself time to gather your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just…I’m sad. I’m glad everyone’s doing well, but I almost feel like I missed a part of that because I didn’t go back to the beach for the summer.” You fall back onto your bed with a groan. “I miss you.”

The words fall from your lips easily, though your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve said. While you had never been one to sugarcoat your words with Choso, you couldn’t help but feel as though those simple words held more weight since the kiss.

Choso doesn’t seem to be having the same thoughts, because he quickly replies with an, “I miss you, too.”

And just like that, the conversation picks right back up.

It’s easy with Choso. It’s always easy. You sometimes forget just how easy it is.

- - - - - - - -

That breather you thought you’d be getting for winter break? Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Could it be because your first year of college hadn’t gone according to plan which resulted in you ending the year with a lower than desired grade point average? Who could say? That wasn’t important anyway. The important thing was that you’d opted to take Winter classes as well. Because your life wasn’t already hell Monday through Friday during the spring and fall semesters. Not to mention the summer classes you’d taken earlier in the year that had kept you from being able to tag along on your annual beach trip.

College was turning out to be more of a drag than anything. Luckily, you had made plenty of friends here that made the fact you were missing out on these things a lot more bearable.

It was during the Winter semester that you’d met Iori Utahime, a beautiful young woman with a curious scar across her face that somehow only added to her stunning looks. The two of you had quickly hit it off, both wanting to take your studies seriously and needing someone to hold the other accountable for reaching their goal. Utahime wanted to pursue a career in music and while your majors differed, you were still artists just the same. 

Your similarities didn’t end there either. You shared core classes and unfortunately also shared struggling GPAs, which only brought you closer to each other. So when you found yourselves paired up for a project for one of your Winter courses, you soon found yourselves together more often than not.

And she’d introduced you to more friends as time went on.

There was Satoru. Satoru was goofy. That was the best way to describe him. He never took anything seriously, because everything was easy for him. Seriously. He was a genius who never needed to study because he just knew he’d ace his exams. Because of this, he was all about enjoying the college experience.

You could catch Satoru at every party, the center of attention everywhere he went. He was Mr. Popular. There was no one on campus who did not know who Satoru Gojo was. Almost every student on campus either wanted him or wanted to be him. And although you didn't share the same desires as them, you could see the appeal. 

Satoru was tall. Way too tall. And had the strangest hair color you’d ever seen– stark white and so messy. He claimed it was natural, though you had your doubts. In a way, his hair reminded you oddly of Choso, if only because you could only think about how it was the total opposite of your friends. And his eyes…they also reminded you of Choso. Because they were as blue as the ocean you’d sat in front of many times with him. As blue as the waters that had brought you to Choso in the first place. 

But that was where the similarities ended. Satoru was carefree, going with the flow whenever he could. He never planned for anything, he just let things happen. And he bugged Utahime in a way you couldn’t understand. It’s not really like he had to do much in the first place to get under her skin. All he needed to do was breathe within the same vicinity as Utahime and she was going ballistic. And Satoru seemed to love that.

There was Suguru, Satoru’s best friend. Or more? You could never quite tell with those two. He also reminded you of Choso in a way. Not physically, but general demeanor. Suguru was quieter, more observant than Satoru. He was thoughtful and kind, not abrasive at all; soft spoken in a way that made you feel as though he truly cared for you. And you liked that about him.

When out, you’d often find yourself next to Suguru. His presence was warm and comforting, almost familiar. You felt safe and protected with him and you knew that if Suguru was with you, you could just count on him to look out for you. You’d grown close fairly quickly and had established a friendship outside of your immediate friend group. You spent a lot of time together, but there was never any connection between you two aside from friendship.

And then there was the last of your group – Shoko. Clearly there was something going on between her and Utahime. But if you asked either of them, they'd quickly deny it. None of you were dumb, even with your low GPAs. The stolen glances, the touches they thought you all didn’t notice, the way one always ended up leaving exactly three minutes before the other decided to call it a night.

You found it very amusing, the way they thought none of you knew what was going on.

Their situation made you think more about Choso and how he –

Wait.

Why were you thinking about Choso so much? Why did everything suddenly remind you of him? You couldn’t think about any of your new friends without comparing them to Choso. Even after all this time.

After your last summer vacation, Choso had spent a good amount of time on your mind. But it’s been almost two years now. A second summer vacation was coming up and you were once again abandoning plans to go to the beach with your family and opting to take more summer courses to boost your GPA.

And it wasn’t as though you’d spoken to Choso much, either. Between your studies and his own life happenings, there wasn’t much time to chat. You carve out time when you can and appreciate the usual nightcap you both share every so often. But you're busy with your studies and Choso…well…

When your second year of college began, that was also when Choso had broken the sad news to you that college would be put on hold for him indefinitely.

“It’s my dad,” he’d told you. “Fucker just up and left and we haven’t heard from him since. Not that I should be surprised. I guess I'm only shocked it took him so long.”

You could hear the words come through gritted teeth, how he’d tried to hide the venom that dripped from each syllable. He was beyond pissed. You knew Choso better than you knew any other friend. There was no better way to get on his bad side than to mess with his beloved siblings. 

But you knew more than anything that Choso was disappointed, crestfallen even.

For Choso, getting out of that small beach town and getting an education was his path to a better life for himself and for his brothers. His father taking that from him felt like the ultimate betrayal. What could you even say to lift his spirits at that point?

“I'm so sorry, Cho. Fuck, I'm sorry.” 

It didn't feel like enough.

You checked in with him when you could. And he checked in with you when he could, but he was busy working. He’d accepted a full time position as a manager at Panda’s and had even told you a spot would be there for when you returned the next summer.

But it looked like someone else would have to fill the position this year.

You missed your vacations back to your second home. You missed the warmth of the sand beneath your feet and the smell of the salty ocean air as you all spent your days at the beach. You missed scooping ice cream at Panda’s and doodling the horizon in your sketchbook from your spot behind the counter when work was slow. You missed sneaking out to bonfires and having Choso toss you his sweater the moment you landed in his arms in nothing but the shorts and bikini tops he so hated.

You missed Choso.

That last night at the beach revealed to you for the first time that you may have feelings for your best friend that are more than just friendship. Freshly 18 year old you with almost no prior dating history hardly knew what those feelings meant. But almost 20 year old you, well it's been loud and clear for some time that this has slowly become more than some childish crush. 

You like Choso. 

The whispered call of your name pulls you from your spiraling thoughts and you look up to find Satoru’s bright eyes staring questioningly at you from across the table. You’d all met up in the library to study for your exam coming up at the end of the week. Of course he was checking in because you’d zoned out in the middle of your cram session to daydream about your long distance crush.

Except, that wasn’t why Satoru was checking in at all.

It’s only when Satoru waves his hand next to him that you see another tall figure standing beside the table. Your eyes roam up his form until they land on his face. And it surprises you when you feel your heart kickstart and begin racing.

Because you thought only Choso could get that reaction from you. 

“This is Kaito,” Satoru introduces him and Kaito smiles, eyes locked on yours and you think you can hear your heart pounding in your chest.

Kaito is tall, slender, but not in the way Satoru is. If anything, you’d say he has the same body type as Suguru. He’s lean. You can tell from the way his clothes accentuate his form that he’s fit.  And he’s got the most beautiful smile, teeth so brilliantly white that you’re nervous to see how brightly they shine in the sun. Gorgeous emerald green eyes sit beneath long black lashes and wow, he is really fucking good looking.

He politely introduces himself, running his hand through a messy black wolfcut as he takes the seat right beside you after Suguru heads to his next class. 

You all resume studying shortly after Satoru’s friend’s arrival. Kaito seems to fit right in, quickly becoming friendly with the rest of the group and you. But you soon notice that Kaito has taken quite a liking to you.

Again, 20 year old you is not as clueless as you used to be and the attention he focuses on you is giving you an insane amount of butterflies.

You catch his little glimpses at you from the corner of your eye, the way he’s quick to lean over and help you resolve an equation you were stuck on, the way he never breaks eye contact with you when you’re speaking with him. Like every word that leaves your mouth is the most important thing he’s ever heard.

“So yeah, that’s why hot cheetos are like the best chip there are.” You finish your rant, beaming because you finally got to tell someone your true feelings about this.

“Absolutely…fascinating…” Utahime comments sarcastically. She’d stopped listening to your rambling ages ago, nose buried in her textbook.

Shoko and Satoru had left to get refreshments so unfortunately for them, they'd missed the entire thing.

But Kaito, you’ve got his full attention. “No, really. It’s truly fascinating. I’d love to hear more.”

His grin has your tummy squeezing, that sweet tickle returning and you find yourself smiling right back despite your little epiphany about your feelings regarding your childhood friend just moments before Kaito showed up.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

A loud slurping can be heard from across the table, effectively popping the little bubble that you and Kaito had suddenly found yourselves in. On the other side of the table sits Satoru, back from his trip to the cafe, guzzling a sweet juice while he watches you and Kaito talk over the rim of his glasses. Next to him, Utahime’s face is twisted into a look of pure hatred and disgust. Satoru ignores it.

“Y’all should go out,” Satoru suggests casually, like he’s talking about something as unimportant as the weather. “Talk about animal crackers or whatever the hell.”

Shoko snorts as she discreetly slides a snack over to Utahime while no one is looking. Except everyone sees it anyway because these two are so fucking obvious.

“Yeah, go out,” Shoko also chimes in. “Think you two would make a great couple.”

Your face ignites with heat, the sudden idea making you want to kick Satoru and Shoko under the table.

But Kaito smirks, eyes holding your gaze like they have been this entire time and he says, “I’d like that. Can I?”

You glance at Utahime who stares at you in surprise. 

“Um…can you what?” You question, trying to buy yourself time to think.

“Can I take you out? Like, on a date.” His response is quick. It’s so easy for him. He just spits it out and says what he wants. And you’re sitting here still freaking out just over Satoru’s suggestion.

“I…”

“If I bring hot cheetos with me, would that make it more tempting?” He’s so charming, and cute, and sweet and–

Ugh, what reason do you have to say no to him?

The sudden vision of pigtails flashes through your mind. And suddenly, the excitement you were feeling seems to fall away. And Kaito seems to sense it, because his grin falters a little, becoming just a small smile on his lips and he simply nods and gives you a “sure” when you ask him, “Can I get back to you?”

- - - - - - - -

“I met someone today,” you speak quietly into the phone, lying in bed after leaving your study date with your friends. You’re nervous. Probably because you’re testing the waters here. Probably because your walk back to your dorm after Kaito had asked you out was eye opening. 

Can you really open yourself to date someone else seriously when your thoughts are plagued by another man? Can you open yourself to the possibility of being with someone else when the person you want to be with is hundreds of miles away, in some little beach town?

Because that's what you've come to realize. You want to be with Choso. 

You just need to know if he feels the same way you do. You have an idea of how Choso feels about you based on the last time you’d seen each other. But that doesn’t make you feel any less like digging a hole in the ground and burying yourself in embarrassment thinking about bringing any of this up. 

“Oh yeah? Another new friend?” Choso asks distantly. He’s currently at Panda’s closing shop, so he’s got you on speaker while he completes his nightly tasks. You were happy (maybe too happy) when he'd answered your call tonight. 

“Sort of a friend, sure…He’s nice…”

You’re hoping he’ll take the hint quickly here.

But when Choso just gives you an absentminded “that’s cool”, you know you’ve only got half of his attention. And you want all of it.

“Yeah. His name is Kaito. Really nice guy.” And it’s true. You think Kaito is nice, but you think Choso is nicer. That's not to say you're not into Kaito either. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested in him. But you’d also be lying if you said you weren’t interested in Choso as well. Maybe more than you are Kaito. Because for you, you’re pretty sure it will always be Choso. Even though you've never had anyone else, you know you don't need to. It's Choso for you.

That is why your thoughts have been consumed with him. This revelation has been so freeing.

You just need to know if he feels the same. 

“Glad you’re meeting new people.”

He’s still distracted, the sounds of him pushing the chairs around the store’s lobby echoing through the phone. You didn’t want to have to show your hand so quickly, but you’re tired from a long day of studying and tired from years of beating around the bush. It’s been over a decade of your feelings slowly building for Choso and now your heart is ready to burst. You have no choice but to push this conversation along a little faster.

“Yeah, his name is Kaito. He asked me out on a date actually.”

And finally, you get an actual reaction from Choso. Not a grunt, not a hum in reply or some offhand comment. Instead, you hear him shuffling around, then the sound of tapping on his phone, likely taking you off of the speaker. His voice comes through, crisp and clear now.

“Sorry,” he apologizes through quick breaths. “What was that?”

“I said Kaito asked me out on a date…this weekend.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep,” you reply cheerily, hopefully driving the knife a little deeper. Immature, sure, but at this point you’d do anything to get Choso a little closer to saying whether or not he has any feelings for you, if he wants you in the same way you want him. “Probably dinner at his place. Maybe a movie. Not sure yet.”

Choso hums quietly. “And you like this guy…that you just met…today…Kaito…” He says his name like he’s testing it on his tongue.

“He’s really nice.”

“As you’ve said.”

You’re about taken aback by the sudden bite in Choso’s tone, but you ignore his snarkiness. “I don't know how I feel about him yet.”

“Clearly you like him enough to be telling me about him.”

More bite behind his words. Still, you push forward. “I mean, is that bad?” You adjust the phone, moving it to your other ear as you get comfortable beneath your blankets. “You’re my friend, right?”

“Sure, but we don’t talk about stuff like this.”

And he had a point. Even during your summers entertaining Mahito, Choso never wanted to hear about any conversations you had with him. And it’s not like you had that many interactions with him anyway since Choso seemed to always be there whenever the silver haired boy was near you. And you had friends back home to talk about your school girl crushes that never resulted in anything with. 

Aside from your first encounter with Mahito, Choso had also never discussed whether or not you were ever interested in anyone romantically and you had never thought to ask him either. Granted, you only saw each other over the summers and during the year, school kept you both so busy, you couldn’t worry about dating. Your parents were never against it and you'd gone to a movie or two with people who had asked you out, but it was never serious. You didn't care enough to commit to anyone, too focused on trying to get into a good school.

In the summers, the last thing on your mind was asking Choso if he had feelings for anyone else. Most of the time he was with you, anyway. And when he wasn't, he was with his brothers. 

You'd never given thought to Choso…desiring anyone.

Suddenly, the thought of Choso with someone else makes your stomach churn, has your head spinning. Choso in someone else’s arms, hugging someone else, kissing someone else’s lips.

Oh, it has your blood boiling in a way you’ve never experienced before and you try not to sound too petulant when you finally mutter, “Yeah, but I want to talk to you about it now.”

“But why?” He sounds thoroughly confused. You try not to sigh into the receiver. 

“Choso…we’ve literally kissed before, but talking about crushes is where you draw the line?”

It’s the first time either of you have ever mentioned the kiss, now a memory that continues to plague your thoughts and your dreams. 

“Even weirder reason to talk to me about this,” you hear him mumble on the other end.

“How? We’re adults! We can talk about things like that. Besides…” you fiddle with your blanket, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. “It’s really not weird at all…unless the kiss meant something…more to you?”

You’re met with silence. A long stretch of silence that has you fidgeting anxiously. You almost want to laugh, say “I’m just kidding!” and hang up. But then Choso surprises you. He speaks so quietly, you almost don’t hear it over the thundering of your own heart.

“Did it mean something to you?”

Of course it did. What a stupid question. That silly little first kiss and those lips of Choso’s have been eating away at your brain for almost two years. Saying it meant something to you felt like the understatement of the century. You want to scream out loud that that kiss meant everything to you and you’re sorry it took you so long to stop being an idiot and realize that yes, the kiss was more than that. It opened the door for you to realize exactly how you felt about Choso. 

But even so, you still answer with a very quiet “yes”.

And because it’s Choso, who has never lied to you a day in his life, he responds without hesitation. “Me too.”

Finally! The confirmation you were waiting for! The kiss meant something to Choso, too. You weren’t crazy!

“I’ve been thinking about it since it happened. A lot,” Choso confesses.

“Me too. Probably way too much.”

Choso chuckles, which makes you laugh in turn. It’s the answer you wanted to hear from him, but now that that’s out there and your heart is calming down just a bit, it gives your brain enough time to catch up. And now, you’re a little confused.

“Wait. Why’d you tell me I should go out with Kaito?” You laugh again; half from nerves, half from feeling so silly that you used the guy as bait instead of just outright asking Choso how he felt.

The silence has suddenly returned and any semblance of humor seconds ago has now vanished. Now, you feel nervous again. Like your gut is telling you to end this call immediately. This is the calm before the storm and that knife you were twisting into Choso’s back to try and urge an honest response from him soon finds its way into yours when Choso says, “Because you should.”

The knife twists.

“You like him, don’t you? Go on a date with him.”

“Ha ha.” It’s all you can think to say, because it’s keeping the pain at bay for just a second longer. Only a second longer.

“I’m being serious.”

Another twist. And the sting begins to settle in.

“Choso…”

He says your name back to you. “Do you like him?”

“I like you.” It’s the first time you’ve openly admitted it to him. A few seconds pass by with no response, so you keep talking, if only to fill the silence. “Obviously you feel the same way or that kiss wouldn’t be on your mind two years later, right?”

Choso sighs softly. How can he be so calm and collected when you’re sitting here just now realizing that you’re shaking, nearly vibrating out of your skin.

“I like you, too,” he finally admits. “Have for a long time. Couldn’t tell you when it started, but it’s been for as long as I can remember. So yeah, I feel the same.”

“Okay…” You should feel calmer now, confident in the fact that your feelings for each other are out in the open. But that sharp sting of rejection is slowly starting to build, the knife in your back ready to bury itself deeper. “But?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you. There’s a but coming…isn’t there?”

Another bout of silence and you’re starting to lose your mind having to sit through it. This is not how you expected this conversation to go. And you blame yourself for the way it feels like your heart is going to beat straight through your ribcage and fall flat to the floor.

“But I can’t do anything about these…feelings.” He spits the last word out like it’s bitter. “There’s no future where we could ever be together.”

The knife sinks in.

“Why not?”

“Because–”

“And don’t give me some bullshit reason, either.” You cut him off. Because you don’t want excuses. You want honesty, like Choso has always given you.

“What’s a bullshit reason to you?” His tone is snippy again.

What is a bullshit reason? You don’t know. All you know is that you have feelings for this man who once pulled you from certain death over a decade ago. And he has feelings for you, too! He just told you so! You want to be with him, but he doesn’t seem to want to be with you even if he hasn’t said so yet.

Ironically, all this makes you feel like you’re drowning all over again, struggling to pull your head above the water but going nowhere. It's Choso holding you under instead of pulling you out this time.

“...I don’t know,” you finally answer.

“I do,” Choso responds tersely. “I can give you a reason. Hell, I can give you two, three, maybe even four reasons why we can’t be together.”

“Cho–”

“But I don’t need all of those reasons. I only need one – I’m no good for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Choso, you’ve been my best friend practically my whole life. I cannot think of a single person better for me than you.”

He sighs your name, calling for your attention, but you keep going. “And you know me better than anyone else. I know you better than anyone else–”

Choso says your name again, a little harsher this time. You keep on.

“Besides, you said yourself how that kiss stays on your mind. It’s always on my mind too and we can–”

“Stop!” Choso’s harsh voice cuts through your droning. This time, you can’t ignore the snippiness. Never, in all the time that you’ve known Choso, has he raised his voice at you. At least, not in anger or annoyance. Maybe when you were kids, because kids yell. Kids are loud and bossy and Choso was both of those things as a kid. He was always yelling. But he had never yelled at you the way he just had.

You’re so shocked, your mind so suddenly frazzled, that you can’t bring yourself to respond.

“Why are you insisting on this?” Choso sighs, trying to calm himself, but his voice is still coming out a lot rougher than it ever has in your direction. And it’s hurting you in ways you hadn’t known possible, your little heart beginning to crack within your chest.

“I...I just thought –”

“Thought what, exactly?” Choso asks, a dry chuckle following. “Thought that we’d confess that we have feelings for each other and then we-we’d talk about our futures, make plans to be together forever and ever and then sail off into the sunset?”

“I mean–”

“No.”

That’s all he says.

“No?” You’ll need more than that.

“No. There will be no talking about futures together, making plans, sailing off into the sunset…none of it.”

Those little cracks in your heart start to spread, slowly chipping away. That sharp knife you were twisting into Choso’s back is now lodged deep into your own and it’s fucking killing you slowly.

“I don’t–” Your voice is quivering now and you have to take a deep inhale to steady yourself. “I don’t understand. If I have feelings for you, and you have feelings for me…you said the kiss meant more to you!”

“And I meant that.”

“Then why?! Why are you doing this? Is this because of Kaito?”

“Yes!”

“ I–I barely know him! I only brought him up being childish. I was hoping you would realize you had feelings for me. That’s it! I want to be with you!”

“But you should be with someone like him.” Choso’s voice is quiet now, the harshness of it finally gone. “It wouldn't have mattered if it was Kaito or Utahime or whats the other guy? Suguru? I can’t give you what he– what anyone who isn’t me can.”

Now you’re lost. “What?”

“I can’t be what you need me to be. I can’t be the boyfriend you need, the support you’d need if I were to become your boyfriend…”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you feel the tears brimming along your waterline. How your heart shatters into pieces as he lists off the reasons he isn’t good enough for you.

“Look at my fucked up life. No mother, a deadbeat piece of shit for a father, three brothers that I’m solely responsible for and have been for practically my entire life…” He says your name, like a plea, begging for you to listen to him. Like you should take his word for it and simply accept it.

But you won’t accept it.

“I know all of that, Choso. I know you and what you’ve been through – what you’re going through – better than anyone else. And I still want you.”

Now you say his name like a plea, begging for him to hear you and your words. You don’t care about his struggles, about how he’s had to keep his family together his entire life, forced to grow up too quickly and become the glue that holds everything together. You were there for all of that up until recently. And even through it all, you always found your way back to Choso. That won’t change now.

The quiet drags on, just dead air hanging between you two and when he finally speaks, he surprises you. “And I want you, too.” He tells you, lifting your spirits ever so slightly.

Then just as quickly, he breaks you. Again.

“But I’m doing you a favor, so please. Just go date whoever you want, whoever’s good to you.”

“Choso–” Your voice breaks, your lip trembling as you try to fight the sob threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Please.” You hear the way Choso’s voice cracks in a similar manner. Like he has a sob to match your own trying to escape as well. “You…God, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it on someone like me. You have everything going for you. I have nothing going for me. Just some loser working a deadend job in the same deadend town I’ve always been in and will probably always be in. And I refuse to drag you down with me. I’m looking out for you…Like I’ve always tried to do.”

Your protector.

Even when you don’t want him to be. Even when you wish he wouldn’t be. Even when it hurts you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” Choso tells you. “I do. Fuck, believe me when I say that. I would love nothing more than that because I've wanted it for so long…but you deserve so much more than this.”

“You are not a loser, Choso. Just…stop. I think we can–”

“I have to go,” He interrupts. “Need to finish this stuff up and head home. Yuuji has a project due tomorrow that I need to help with.” He’s quiet again, but you can just make out the sound of him sniffling, choking down that same sob before he says, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Choso ends the call abruptly, before you can even say goodbye, and the shakiness of his voice stays with you for the rest of the night. Even as you shower, numb to the excruciating heat of the water. As you brush your teeth and crawl beneath your sheets where you finally allow your heart to fully crumple. Even then, you hear the clear tremble of Choso’s words.

It hurts. This is a pain you don’t have any experience with. You don't know what to do with it. This is a pain you’d hoped you would never have to feel. And you never expected your best friend to be the one to cause it.

But you’re hopeful that you two will be able to patch things up. That you two will be able to go back to normal, even if things are awkward for a bit. Because you don’t want to lose Choso. He’s your very best friend, long distance or not. He means way too much to you for your crush to get in the way. You just hope you haven’t ruined things between you two.

Besides, he did say he would talk to you later. You take solace in that, finally letting sleep take over even as your tears still fall.

If only you’d have known that when you opened your eyes the next morning and opened your phone to send an apology text to Choso, that your text would fail to go through. 

If only you’d known that you would go to check Choso’s social media pages only to see blank screens because he’d apparently blocked you. You'd search through every account he has on every social media platform and find yourself no longer able to see any of his information.

“I refuse to drag you down with me.” Those words play on a loop in your mind.

He really meant it.

[qiu-yan]

jiang cheng at the club

i answered kind of speedily but hm blorbo should not be at the club

teenage era? the most debatable era tbh. on one hand - for one, if jiang cheng goes, he's going because he thinks that's what the cool kids his age should be doing, rather than because it's what he actually wants to do. for two, if he goes he's certainly going with wei wuxian. there's a good chance he'll have a good time with wei wuxian, but there's also a good chance that he'll spend the entire experience way too high-strung about wei wuxian doing something stupid (guaranteed) that will make both him and yunmeng jiang look stupid (not guaranteed but still likely) and/or put wei wuxian in danger (also very likely). there's also an even higher chance that wei wuxian will end up fucking off to chat/flirt/etc with other people (eg. lan wangji who wei wuxian also managed to drag to the club, who then gets drunk and thus wei wuxian now has to babysit), thereby leaving jiang cheng all by his lonesome. jiang cheng can probably talk to strangers, but he came here to have fun with wei wuxian and now wei wuxian has ding dong ditched. bonus points if wei wuxian promised to be designated driver and now jiang cheng has to uber home.

on the other hand - teenage wei wuxian and jiang cheng are definitely making the club more fun. mostly wei wuxian. and, despite all of the above, jiang cheng is probably having a good time...most of the time...too.

adult era: nah. jiang cheng is busy. it would be nice if he could let loose and forget about everything for a few hours, but he would not do that. realistically he'd just spend the entire time stressing about his growing to-do list, and the music would give him a headache.

also, everything at the club would remind him of wei wuxian. wei wuxian, certified party animal, was almost certainly the one dragging jiang cheng to the club in their youth; jiang cheng probably does in fact have some happy memories of clubbing with wei wuxian. but those happy memories are gonna curdle into depressing ones the moment he steps through the doors and is reminded of wei wuxian again. the photos of wei wuxian doing a keg stand behind the bar are making him miserable, and he in turn is going to make it everyone else's problem.

postcanon era: also nah. mostly because he'd almost certainly run into jin ling et al. sneaking into the club with fake IDs, and now everyone's yelling.

on the other hand....maybe he and wei wuxian can eventually reconcile over a night of partying they're both frankly way too old for. or maybe when they wake up the next day in the same ditch with matching hangovers.

[blueishspace]

Secret Life if everyone had only one life

Most health losses remain the same as they were accidents: mobs, heights and generally being a little dumb.

Scott never stops Jimmy and Scar from talking as Jimmy has done severely better in this continuity never being out first, maybe he even joins in the conversation for a while before walking off.

With Third Life being completely different Scar never gives Grian the cactus monopoly as that has no significance. Perhaps he gives him sugarcane as Double Life has taken Third Lifes place as the birth of Scarian? Thinking about it Scarian would probably be referred by fandom as Bamboo duo or Panda Duo having been created in Double Life.

Session 1 remains basically the exact same for everything else mostly, same for most of session 2.

Martyn still goes to the Nether and is killed by the piglin, he is the first player out of the game.

Session 3 is where the changes start...

Joel doesn't reroll his task for a hard one as failing would basically mean being extremely close to being out, so he sticks with the deja vu task...which he likely fails as its a task that realistically I can't imagine someone being able to do at all without luck... This means he doesn't die failing the bucket clutch.

Jimmy still dies to the drowned and is out second, the big dogs never happen for obvious reasons. Gem still dies to an enderman while trying to do her task and is the third player out. Lizzie still dies to a skeleton on the water slide and is the fourth player out.

Martyn Isn't there to guess Tango's task so he likely succeeds, he gets 3 hearts and 7 items.

Grian's session 4 task is different as there are no yellows, the same is applied to all tasks that are based on the green-yellow-red life system from here on out, each of them has been slightly changed. In this case he simply needs to convince anyone that singing is his task, which he succeeds. This is easier as it allows for more people to be target but harder since It's harder to be sure you have fooled them without them calling you out as a yellow life...so it evens out. He still joins Cleo and Etho later.

Martyn is also not there to make Scar's life more miserable as he can't cause him to fail, Scar succeeds getting 6 hearts and 4 items.

Etho also never gets his task from Martyns suggestion so aHa Etho never happens.

The same that happened to Grian applies to Skizz, Skizz likely fails either way.

Lizzie is out so she also never makes the paths which means movement across the server is technically more difficult. Also Scotts task is likely failed without Lizzie.

Importantly, without Gem and with everyone having only one life they can't risk the dragon is likely never slain and Bdubs fails his hard task losing 10 hearts.

Without Gem there is also no tower off so no questionable mounder towers, Mumbo never climbs the now Gemless Scotts mountain to judge which is tallest and never falls to his death in the process.

BigB's task is different as stated before, so he probably doesn't betray the heart foundation. No trust issues this time around.

Tango and many others also never lose lifes because there are no red life tasks. Cleo race against Gem is also not a thing which means Cleos task is to simply get people to hand their doors.

Joel can't use Jimmy or Lizzie to target Scott (aka basically two of the few people willing to) so he likely fails his task.

Bdubs is still pushed in the zombie pit by Scar, Mumbo still falls in lava, Skizz still dies to something as his health is extremely low and BigB still dies while fighting the wither. They are fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth out respectively.

With only one life Grian likely doesn't run in front of the wither to press the button, he doesn't die yet... however he does likely have extremely low health so he probably dies against the wither anyway. He's the ninth player out. (Or eight if he dies before BigB)

Scott has the charisma to still complete his task without Gem, so he does. Scott also has 1 heart, he probably dies even without trading his life to Martyn.

Gem is already out of the game, there is no boogeyman/zombie apocalypse in session 7 so ... nobody dies, not even Tango who is never killed by BigB's dog as BigB is out and is later also not killed by the non existant zombie army.

There's also no Angel Jimmy as Grian is out of the game and can't get the task.

At this point in time there are 7 players left in the game: Pearl, Joel, Impulse, Cleo, Etho, Tango and Scar.

Everyone also has very little hearts each as there have been no respawns... Which means when that creeper explodes next to Pearl...she probably doesn't survive it, tenth player out, 6 to go... Knowing Joel erratic behavior gets worse without his teammates he's likely to accidentally kill himself sometimes soon... 5 left.

The last 5: Impulse, Tango, Cleo, Etho and Scar. I can see Impulse and Tango working together... Seeing the weird competition between Scar and Heart foundation I think Tango and Impulse target and kill Scar, 4 left...

Cleo does the nice vs naughty thing, I don't think she gets to kill anyone but I think someone kills them in response... Maybe dogs if she's accidentally punched... 3 left.

With Impulse working with Tango I think they work together to kill Etho putting him in third leaving those two to fight for the win as the finalists... I think Impulse has a higher chance to win...just slightly, the difference isn't that severe, but I think in this case Impulse wins.

The winner of secret life is Saturn.

(Third Life)

(Last Life)

(Double Life)

(Limited Life)

[nellandvoid]

to celebrate the pines twins birthdays, i’m gonna make them miserable!!!!!

jkjk i just want to show a wip of my better world au designs for mabel and dipper, a (r o u g h) sketch that just so happens to be (semi) done on their birthday!! (it’s still the 31st. shut up/j)

lore dump under cut cause man am i gonna yap

the main thing i wanna do with these two is keep their fundamentals while still realistically changing their external personalities based on how they were raised (especially since their great-uncle ford is head of the institute of oddology and an estimed scholar in cryptozoology)

design-wise, i wanted to show how mabel's a bit more insecure while dipper's the opposite, so her sweaters don't all have designs on them, her hair is pulled back, and she has shorts and tennis shoes instead of a skirt and flats - dipper, on the other hand, doesn't have a hat since he doesn't care if people see his birthmark, and he has the space tee and button up combo that he was wearing in the valentines flashback in weirdmageddon pt 2 since he wouldn't be as self-conscious about showing off his interests

personality-wise, dipper has probably changed the least: still socially awkward, still has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder (same), still considers mabel his best (and only) friend - the main difference, though, is that growing up he wasn't bullied as much for being interested in the strange and unusual. kids are still cruel, of course, but he always had his great-uncle's reputation to look up to whenever someone made fun of his birthmark or obsession with ghosts. and now, getting to finally spend a summer with his idol, he's more than ready to finally be accepted for all his weirdness. he can finally be loud, be weird, be himself, and not get those looks people in piedmont give him when they think he's not looking. the few times he's met great-uncle ford growing up, the few times he slipped up and said something weird, his great-uncle never gave him the look like everyone else did. he'd just smile, always softly, always distantly, and always tell him to never change.

on the other hand, mabel is much more reserved and self-conscious, especially when she arrives in gravity falls - weirdness has always led to genius in her family, so when she let her mind drift away her parents would always drag her back down to earth, telling her she's just as capable as her great-uncle and brother, why doesn't she just take homework, take school, take life seriously like they do? and so she tries to, and tries, and eventually she learns about the look: the one people give her when she tells them about the time she swallowed a whole bag of gummy worms without chewing, or about the sweater she knit last week that's scratch and sniff, or about anything not serious. she hates the look, and starts to do anything she can to avoid it. especially when she does something silly in front of her great-uncle ford. the look he gives always hurts more, like something she did reminded him of a nightmare or a bad memory. and she didn't want to hurt him.

[coimbrabertone]

The Best F1 Season For A Non-Contender?

Well, the biggest story coming out of the 2024 United States Grand Prix is without a doubt the Verstappen/Norris thing.

To recap, Lando is coming after Max hard, gets run on the backstraight after run on the backstraight, but keeps going to the outside and can't pull the move off.

Finally, on lap 52, Lando has a good enough run that he's ahead, on the outside, but ahead. So what then?

Well, Max Verstappen is on the inside so he just divebombs to get the apex, goes wide, pushes Lando wide with him, and Lando has to pass around the outside in the runoff.

He's finally ahead.

Except no, fuck you, this is F1 and fun isn't allowed.

So the stewards are investigating this move where no contact was made, nobody got hurt, and there was enough runoff all around to land an Antonov AN-225 in.

And Lando gets the penalty. Lando.

Why? Overtaking off track.

Lando is 4.1 seconds ahead at the end of the race, gets dropped behind Max in the standings, everyone on social media is pissed. Some people - who are wrong - think that Max had the right because he was in front at the apex, others think Lando should've just given the position back and retaken it on track, which probably would've been the smart play in retrospect.

It's also kinda the racing equivalent of cuckolding though, isn't it?

Like, are we really watching for someone to have to give up a position to avoid getting a penalty?

"Ah yes sir, you drove me off track like a prick sir, but here's the position sir, have a good one sir."

Ridiculous.

Anyway, I'm sure this is the 97th different place you've heard about this incident, so I'll leave it there. Instead, I'm gonna talk about something overshadowed by all the petty bullshit going on between these two championship contenders.

And that's the fact that Charles Leclerc is quietly putting together a dream season.

First, he wins the Monaco Grand Prix. Winning Monaco is already a feather in the cap for an F1 driver, but it's also his home race, so that might just be one of the most special wins imaginable. Especially when you consider how miserable Charles' luck at Monte Carlo has been before now.

Then, he wins the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari for the second time, no less. He's won his own home race and he's won his team's home race, what more could you ask for in a season?

Well, the first race weekend back from his birthday on October 16th, Leclerc goes and leads home a Ferrari 1-2 at the United States Grand Prix. Now, I'm an American so the USGP is a special event for me - I wrote a blogpost all about its history last week - but I recognize that isn't the case for the Monegasque Leclerc.

Still, a GP win is still an amazing birthday present.

What a way to bounce back considering he was disqualified last year for plank wear as well.

So, that's three wins on the season, each one having something special about it. Does that make it the best season ever for a non-contender?

Well, that's a difficult question.

First things first, what do we consider a contender? In a way, everyone is contending for the championship, so they're all contenders.

Is it a potential shot at the championship then? Eh, probably not, because Leclerc still potentially has a chance at winning the championship.

So how about this: being a contender is having a realistic chance at the championship. So the championship leader and the direct challengers.

This year, I'd argue that's just Max and Lando, since Max has had the best car for years and started the season with easily the best car, while Lando has benefited from a recent surge by McLaren.

For another example, in 2007, I'd argue that Raikkonen, Alonso, and Hamilton were all contenders, but Massa was not.

So how about Massa's three-win season that year?

Well, he won Bahrain, Spain, and Turkey.

Two places without much connection to him, and then a track he already won at the year before.

In that respect, I'd argue 2006 was a more meaningful season for Massa. His first year in a Ferrari, he's far off Alonso and Schumacher, but he takes his first win at Turkey and then gets to win his home race at Brazil, solidifying his position as best of the rest.

Button 2010?

Eh, he's the reigning champion going into a good team like McLaren and ends up dropping away from the championship pack after Korea, and only takes two wins to his name: Australia and China.

I can't think of a reason those races would be special for him.

What about Button in 2011? Is he a contender that year? That's actually hard for me to say. He's second, he was painted as the challenger to Vettel, but he finished more than a hundred points off. Is that much of a rivalry?

Then again, can we really say 2011 only had one contender?

I'm not sure.

Canada, Hungary, and Suzuka are a decent set of tracks if you're gonna take three wins in a season, especially given how Canada went down, with it being Jenson's career drive.

That one could count then, I reckon.

How about further back in history?

What about 1966, when Ludovico Scarfiotti did literally two races - Germany and Italy - and won the latter. An Italian winning the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari has got to be special, right? Especially when you consider that this is the last time an Italian won the Italian Grand Prix. Not just in a Ferrari, but at all.

I suppose it's also as close as F1 has ever gotten to that 2006 Valencia Grand Prix in MotoGP where Troy Bayliss returned to MotoGP, filling in for the injured Sete Gibernau at one race at Ducati.

A race with Bayliss proceeded to win.

Troy hadn't won any races in full seasons with Ducati in 2003 and 2004, nor in his partial campaign with Camel Honda in 2005, but he comes back in 2006 as a replacement rider for one race and goes on to win that thing.

It's a wonderful racing moment, and Scarfiotti at Monza in 1966 is probably as close as F1 ever got to that.

Oh here's one.

Jody Scheckter in 1976. The whole world is watching Hunt vs. Lauda, McLaren vs. Ferrari, and here's Jody Scheckter in a six-wheeled Tyrrell casually winning the Swedish Grand Prix, taking four second places, and ending the season as best of the rest.

The Swedish Grand Prix was a great race for these one-off weird winners actually. Scheckter in the Tyrrell P34 in 1976, Jacques Laffite in the Matra V12 powered Ligier in 1977, and of course 1979 with Niki Lauda winning in the fan car.

Ooh, speaking of 1977, I think we have a contender!

...A contender for non-contenders? Yes actually.

Mario Andretti in 1977. He's got the Lotus 78, the first ground effect car in Formula One history, and it's not quite ready to win the championship, but it's still going on a tear.

Winning the USGP West at Long Beach, a home race for Andretti. Then winning at Spain and France, and finally winning the Italian Grand Prix, the other race Mario could call home. That sounds like an awful good season to me, potentially even better than Leclerc this year. He also finished third that year, so it lines up there as well.

How about this? We'll see if Leclerc can win another race or two this year, and if not, then I'll give it to Andretti. 1977, the best championship season for a non-contender.

Feel free to leave any notable seasons I missed in the comments below, I'm eager to hear what seasons y'all can come up with.

P.S

In other news this weekend, we had the Australian Grand Prix in MotoGP. Jorge Martin won the sprint and Marc Marquez the main race. The sprint was pretty uneventful save for a few scary crashes right at the end - particularly Bezzecchi and Vinales in turn one, with both riders thankfully walking away okay - while the race saw a pretty dramatic battle between Martin and Marquez at the end.

I don't exactly cheer for either guy, so it was a bit meh for me, but at least Phillip Island put on a good race.

As for NASCAR...quite frankly I didn't watch this weekend. I was watching F1 and after that I had a headache and I was mad about the Max/Lando stuff, so I just didn't want to bother with it. I hear Logano won though, which means he goes on to the championship four. Cue up the even year memes.

Even Penske tweeted a joke about that.

Penske tweeting jokes. Heh, that's a new one.

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 8

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 10k

(CW: allusions to previous sexual encounters)

Summary:

“A letter for you,” Gale interrupts Astarion’s thoughts, placing the crisp white paper on his desk.

Perfect timing. Shadowheart was supposed to send him a letter when the two of you arrived safely at the cottage and he had just been starting to worry about the delay.

Astarion rips into the letter greedily. 

The air around him suddenly reeks of sulfur and Astarion’s stomach drops when he is not greeted by Shadowheart’s neat print.

The letter is brief:

“Dearest Astarion,

I formally request your presence at the House of Hope to renegotiate the terms of our contract. I’ve even gone to the trouble of ensuring that your lovely new bride is able to join us. 

Remember, boy. I made you. I can break you just as easily.

-Raphael”

Read on ao3 here.

You had only been gone for a day and Astarion was already miserable.

This wasn’t what he planned for when he arrived home. He had missed you- the warmth of your skin, your little smiles that felt like sunshine, your sharp wit. In the best case scenario, he hoped you would already be naked and waiting for him so he wouldn’t have to waste time on removing all those damned layers of your clothing. You would fall to your knees for him again and he would get to watch the lovely tears gather on your lashes and run down your face as you choked on his cock like the night before he left. 

He had replayed that memory many times in his head while he was gone. More often than he would have liked to admit since his attention should have been focused on finding the final gem. 

More realistically, you would have ordered him to take a bath the moment you saw how dirty he was after days of traveling. He would have pulled you in with him, content to watch you move atop his cock as you straddled him in the bathtub. 

Astarion was intimately familiar with sex and fucking and depraved, carnal lust. He knew bodies and taught himself how to perform and pleasure others so that the act could be over as quickly as possible. He had grown weary and disinterested- it had been so long since he had thought of intimacy as anything other than a manipulation tactic used to exploit people. 

But you had reignited that spark in him, had fanned his desire into a flame that consumed him whole. You had awoken something primal, some inner beast which needed to be nurtured and fed by your touch. It all felt different with you. It felt like a disservice that the acts of worship the two of you performed should even be described using the same word as all those times before. With you it felt like love, it felt like devotion, it felt like coming home. 

And he found himself enjoying the little moments after just as much as the pleasure itself- the way you would wrap around one another and talk or rest or read. 

So after Astarion’s appetite for you was relatively sated (he doubted he would ever truly get enough of you), he would have given you the silly new romance book he had brought back for you as a present. While romance was not his favorite genre, he had started sneaking peeks at the covers of all the books you read very soon after the two of you were first married. At the time, it felt like an easy way to learn about you. And he had found that you loved a romance.

He was perfectly content to let you read the new book aloud to him. He would get to rest his head on your soft stomach and poke fun at the dark, mysterious love interest who was likely entirely too melodramatic and brooding. He would relish in the way that you would narrow your pretty eyes as you looked down at him from over the spine of the book. You would probably have some jab about him needing to take a look in the mirror before calling people melodramatic and brooding. He would get to wink at you and remind you that alas, he was so beautiful that mirrors could not capture his reflection.

Not that he had spent the entire ride home fantasizing or anything…

But in his wildest nightmares, he never imagined that his return would have ended in a fight. 

He had hardly even gotten a good look at you before he saw that gods damned diary in your hands and everything was shredded to pieces. He should have expected something like this would happen soon. Everything had been going too well and the fates seemingly loved nothing more than reminding Astarion of his place at every opportunity. 

But how could you- his perfect, flawless wife- have betrayed him like this?

Astarion is used to being mad. For centuries, little more kept him alive than the spark of rage which burned deep inside his chest where his heart should have been beating. But Astarion was not used to being angry at you. He had times where he got frustrated or upset, but most of the time that was because you were pointing out some fact about himself that he would rather stay hidden.

Even your last fight had not been your fault- he had been the one pushing you away, he was the one who believed himself to be using you, he was the one who was unequipped to handle the swirl of emotions inside himself. 

And even now, Astarion does not know if he is more mad at you for prying into his personal affairs or if he is more upset with the fact that your opinion of him has certainly changed. Now that you truly know him, there is no reason why you would continue to love him. 

He still shouldn’t have yelled at you and ordered you away but he just needed the fighting to stop. He needed to get out of there, needed to think. And he wasn’t able to do that with you staring up at him with big, tearful eyes. 

Of course, in the end, he had only served to make it worse. That is all Astarion knows how to do. 

And right now, he should be preparing himself for the worst case scenario, but he still can’t help but hope that the two of you would somehow manage to overcome this. That you would somehow manage to grow stronger now that everything was out in the open.

In time, he is certain that he will forgive you. But he does not know if you will ever forgive him. Your anger burns brighter and hotter than his ever could. 

“A letter for you,” Gale interrupts Astarion’s thoughts, placing the crisp white paper on his desk.

Perfect timing. Shadowheart was supposed to send him a letter when the two of you arrived safely at the cottage and he had just been starting to worry about the delay.

Astarion rips into the letter greedily. 

The air around him suddenly reeks of sulfur and Astarion’s stomach drops when he is not greeted by Shadowheart’s neat print.

The letter is brief:

“Dearest Astarion,

I formally request your presence at the House of Hope to renegotiate the terms of our contract. I’ve even gone to the trouble of ensuring that your lovely new bride is able to join us. 

Remember, boy. I made you. I can break you just as easily.

-Raphael”

A phantom chill runs up Astarion’s spine and reverberates deep in Astarion’s bones. If he didn’t know better, he would think Cazador was the one who wrote this letter. How many times had Astarion had the same degrading, patronizing sentiments hurled at him by Cazador?

But at least Astarion had known Cazador- knew how he thought and how he would react. Raphael is a new beast entirely. Something far more terrifying, far more unpredictable. 

Astarion had lived in a state of constant fear for centuries but he had never felt a panic like the icy hands that gripped his heart now.

Raphael had you.

—----------

They had gagged you almost immediately. Bastards. 

To be fair, you had been screaming and biting fairly violently at your captors, but you still don’t think that warranted a dirty, old rag being shoved in your mouth. 

Astarion would probably have a crude joke if he saw you like this. 

Or, well- he probably would immediately kill these bastards and then make a comment about how he ‘had much better ways of keeping you quiet.’ The idea would almost make you laugh if your circumstances weren’t so dire.

After you had been subdued, your kidnappers had checked both you and Shadowheart for weapons. You, of course, did not have any and were biting and kicking whenever any of their hands threatened to slip beneath your skirt and check for hidden blades, which is what led to the subsequent gagging and binding of your hands and legs.

Shadowheart, however, seemed to have a variety of weapons hidden on her person. How did she even manage that? Did she just… carry weapons around all the time? And how did she even know how to use them?

It was as if everyone is determined to keep their backstories a secret from you. 

The two of you are unceremoniously shoved into the back of the carriage after you are bound and deemed free of weapons. Two of the kidnappers sit in the back beside you and Shadowheart, sure to keep their knives in hand in case you get any ideas about escaping. Unfortunately, said knives are just barely out of your reach so you’re unable to steal one away. It’s not like you could anyway, with your hands bound.

You try to sort through some sort of an escape plot in your mind, attempting in vain to communicate with Shadowheart with just your eyes free. Whenever you look at her, she just shakes her head in warning, like she knows what you are thinking so you give up on that after a while. 

The curtains to the carriage have been drawn to prevent prying eyes, but there’s a slight gap in the fabric that allows you just a glimpse out of the carriage. You focus on attempting to recognize any surroundings.

There’s… a wall? No. A gate!

Of course. You’re being taken to the city, Baldur’s Gate. You had always hoped to visit one day and explore that place where your mother had grown up. Admittedly, you had hoped your first visit would be under better circumstances.

When the carriage finally stops, rather than untying your hands or your legs, you are instead lifted over one of the men’s shoulders and carried like a sack of potatoes. You try your best to wriggle and kick and generally be difficult. Eventually, you do manage to get a good kick to the groin of the man who is carrying you over his shoulder and he groans and buckles at the knees. 

Your little act of revenge immediately backfires when you are dropped harshly on the ground by the man who was carrying you as he cries out in pain from your kick. Your own hip collides roughly with the hard rock of the floor and it sends a sharp, bruising pain radiating through your bones. Since the man who was originally holding you is whining and cupping his groin, another man simply reaches down to yank you up over his own shoulder and resumes carrying you to wherever these kidnappers were planning to take you. 

It’s extra annoying because you see that they’re letting Shadowheart walk behind you. Stupid model prisoner.

After being led down what seems like a maze of corridors, you are finally deposited in a filthy cell. The gag is roughly ripped out of your and you take deep swallows of fresh air for the first time in hours. The sides of your mouth are burning from where the rough material of the rag had been rubbing against your skin. 

“Drink,” one of the captors commands.

“I most certainly will not,” you shoot back at him, voice hoarse and your throat on fire. Drinking unknown substances from kidnappers seems like an obvious way to get poisoned. 

The man grabs your hair roughly, forcing your head back. When your mouth involuntarily opens in surprise, he pours the vial of liquid down your throat. 

You try to yell at him and tell him off for horribly you have been treated, but your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth. The corners of your vision are starting to blacken and it feels like your head is swirling.

Is this how you were going to die?

—-----------

Your eyes feel so heavy. 

Someone is brushing back the hair from your face and you hear a soothing, lulling voice urging you to wake up.

“A-Astarion?” You try to slur out but your tongue is barely cooperating with your brain. 

Because surely, he will be there when you awake. Surely, the events of the past few days have all been some horrible nightmare and you will have woken up never having read Astarion’s journal. He will have just arrived home while you were sleeping and he will be kneeling at your bedside like he had before he left, greeting you with kisses and showering you with love. 

“No, my lady,” you hear the twinkly, distinctly feminine voice say. You keep trying to blink your eyes open but you’re hardly able to see past your own lashes before they’re falling shut again. 

You’re so tired.

It feels like an eternity before you’re finally able to hold your eyes open for a few seconds at a time. Shadowheart’s blurry, worried face is looking down at you. 

“My lady, are you alright?” She asks, fretting nervously around you. You feel something cool being pressed to your forehead. It helps you focus a bit on reconnecting your mind to your body, but your head still feels so fuzzy. 

“Wha- what happened?” you try to ask, but it comes out sounding garbled due to your lack of control over your tongue. 

“They gave us sleeping draughts,” Shadowheart explains. “Easier to keep watch over prisoners if they’re unconscious.”

All your muscles still feel too heavy- like one of those dreams where you’re stuck in sand and can’t move. Yet, Shadowheart looks like she’s completely normal.

“Why are you awake?” you try to ask but hearing your own voice, it sounds more like gibberish. Shadowheart looks confused for a moment before she deciphers what you were trying to say. 

“I had a… strange upbringing,” she says. “I know how to deal with situations like this. My body learned how to react to sleeping draughts. I would guess you’ve never taken something this strong before?”

You just hum out a yes, still too tired to try to speak. Like anyone, you had taken light sleeping elixirs and drank sleeping teas when you were sick but whatever the kidnappers had given you must have been hundred of times more potent. You can’t even tell how long you were asleep. One minute your eyes were closing, and the next they were struggling to open again.

What kind of upbringing would possibly lead Shadowheart to have been trained for any sort of situation like this? What- was she in some kind of cult?

“Drink water, it will help flush the rest of the draught out of your system,” she instructs, guiding a cup to your mouth. It seems impossible to try to lift your own arms so you let Shadowheart hold your head up and give you little sips of water.

“They gave us water,” you point out, finding it a bit easier to speak coherently.

“I thought the same thing,” Shadowheart says. “They want us alive. They’ve had ample opportunity to kill us by now.”

“Who-” you start to ask but you already know who. The answer is so obvious it’s almost funny.  “Raphael?”

Shadowheart nods. “I assume. He’s the only one with the resources and motivations to pull off a kidnapping like this. The Gu-” Shadowheart cuts herself off, looking a bit worried that she has said too much.

“The Gur?” You finish her though. “I did read his diary, I know most of his past now.”

“I haven’t read his diary,” Shadowheart says with a sense of moral superiority that makes you want to slap that look off her pretty face. If only you were able to move your arms. “I don’t know what he writes about in there. But yes, the Gur would likely have simply killed us and sent your head back to Astarion.”

“Well, let’s be glad it wasn’t them who ambushed us. I’m rather fond of my head,” you tease. Astarion would have smiled or chuckled at that but Shadowheart just stares at you, solemnly, like you are an idiot who doesn’t understand the perilous nature of your current situation. 

“I don’t think that Raphael is the better alternative. Sometimes death can be a mercy. At least with the Gur, we could have counted on it to be quick and relatively painless. But Raphael…” There’s an almost imperceptible shiver that runs down Shadowheart’s spine.

“So, why are we awake now?” You question, though you are sure Shadowheart is wondering the same thing. 

The water has helped, your mind feels less clouded and you’re able to think again. You stretch out your arms and legs, trying to wake them up a bit before you push yourself up to sit, leaning against the wall of the damp prison cell. 

“I don’t know.” Shadowheart’s brow furrows in concentration, like she’s trying to call upon a memory that doesn’t exist. “I have no idea how long we were even asleep. I only woke up a couple hours before you. But I’m sure this is all planned.” She gives you a look. “Raphael is a powerful man. You read about him, right? In the diary. I can only assume Astarion would have written about him.”

“Astarion’s got some sort of contract with him. Raphael’s some sort of devil or something,” you say, closing your eyes so you can focus on recalling what you had read about Raphael. It’s exponentially harder than normal to remember any details with the remains of the sleeping draught still running through your veins. 

“You know about the gods, right?” Shadowheart asks and because your brain is still foggy, you’re having a hard time following her line of thought. You nod, anyway. Everyone knew about the gods. “Well the gods rule over the heavens. And because the universe needs balance, the devils rule over the hells. Raphael is the son of a very powerful archdevil, Mephistopheles.”

That sounds familiar to you. Astarion had written something similar.

Shadowheart continues, her voice a bit wary, “Due to his parentage, Raphael isn’t as powerful as gods or devils themselves, but he holds significantly more power than most mortals. He’s a…  dangerous man.”

“And he wants the gems of Karsus to rule over the hells, right?” 

“The gems from the Crown of Karsus were split up a long time ago so that no one person could rebuild the Crown.” Shadowheart explains. “But if Raphael can find the third gem, he has a chance of taking down the current ruler of the hells and seizing control of that realm.”

“Is that… a bad thing?” You ask hesitantly, unsure of the politics surrounding the heavens and the hells and how they relate to the mortal world. 

“It really won’t affect us at all.” Shadowheart shrugs. “But Astarion is still looking for the final gem and I fear Raphael is growing impatient.”

And from personal experience, you knew it was never a good thing when power-hungry men felt impatient. It almost always led to death and destruction. 

Shadowheart’s voice is grave. “And more than that, I fear that the more powerful Raphael grows, the more he will try to use Astarion to do his dirty work. Part of why so many people have fallen for Raphael’s charms is because he comes to them in their darkest hours and offers kindness and hope. It’s all a farce, of course, but it’s beneficial to him to maintain the idea that he is respectable. I worry he’ll ruin Astarion’s reputation and use him as the front for the unsavory bits of business he needs to conduct. And Astarion doesn’t deserve that, he’s already suffered more than enough.”

“So why does Astarion have to look for these gems? Why can’t Raphael?” You ask the question that has been bugging you since reading Astarion’s diary. Other than the fact that this is some sort of powerplay, you genuinely can’t figure out Raphael’s motivations. 

“Raphael can’t move very far away from his hellmouth, which is where I assume we are right now. He becomes too weak in the real world,” Shadowheart answers. “And powerful men always have enemies. If he were to leave the source of his power, he’d be much easier to kill.”

Ah, yes- good old self-preservation. It’s a bit comforting to know that beneath it all, Raphael fears death just as much as anyone else. 

“How do you know all this?” 

Shadowheart is amazing at explaining everything to you, now that she is no longer sworn to silence by Astarion.

A little smile dances on Shadowheart’s lips and you can tell she’s amused at your disbelief. “I’ve worked for Astarion for many years. And before that, I used to belong to a group of devout worshippers of the goddess Shar. I learned a lot more about the true darkness in the world than most people do.”

Oh, so she was in a cult. That explains a lot, actually. 

“Well, thank you for finally explaining everything to me,” you say sincerely. For once, you feel you finally have a grasp over the situation you had found yourself in. “You have no idea how frustrating it was to never know what was true and what was simply my imagination. I felt as if I was losing my mind.”

“Believe me, I wanted to tell you,” she assures you, grasping one of your hands in her own. “But Astarion begged us not to say anything. And I owe him my life, so I respect him enough to listen when he asks me to do something.”

“You owe him your life?” You ask, a bit shocked. Astarion was not the type to play savior.

“He rescued me and several followers of Shar when he came to us looking for information on the gems. I helped him find the second one and after, Astarion helped me escape Shar’s cult by offering me a position on his staff.” Her voice turns angry. “I had been… taken from my family by the followers when I was a young girl and groomed by their ideology. I never knew any different until Astarion and Gale came along.”

“And Gale?” You’re more than surprised that Gale is entangled in this, as well. He didn’t seem like someone who sought out danger.

Shadowheart looks a bit wary, “It’d probably be better if you asked him to share his own story with you.”

“Yes, but it will take less time if you tell me,” you joke and Shadowheart laughs. 

“True. The abridged version is that he was a scholar at a very prominent university in Baldur’s Gate until he grew too ambitious and started doing research which involved godly and demonic artifacts. They said he was a risk to the students and forced him out. He lost everything and was completely disowned by society. Because of his research, one of the first things Astarion did when he began looking for the gems was to track Gale down and offer him a position on his staff. With access to the libraries at the Szarr palace and the Ancunin manor, Gale happily accepted.”

“I never thought Astarion would be so willing to help people.”

“He’s willing to help people if they’re able to further his own cause,” Shadowheart says with a wry smile. “But I think deep down he does like picking up strays. He married you, after all. None of us saw that coming.”

It’s strange. Another piece in the puzzle that is Astarion. The more you learn, the more you realize that you perhaps did not know him at all. You had studied him so carefully, but perhaps you still weren’t fully able to see the man beneath the mask. Where did Astarion end and the performance begin? 

It’s too much to think about with your mind still clouded by the after-affects of the draught. You rub at your eyes as if that will help clear away your doubt and confusion.

But it doesn’t help at all to sit around and dwell on Astarion. You need to do something, need to find some way out of here before Raphael can finish whatever he’s planning to do with you. You’re lucky that a couple pins managed to survive the fray and are still hanging limply in your hair. You start to pull them out and move toward the door.

 “We need to get out of here,” you say, bending one of the pins so you can shimmy it into the lock on the door. 

Shadowheart stills your hands. “No. We wouldn’t get anywhere. It’s smarter to wait. Don’t play your hand before it’s time.”

Why does she always have to be right about everything?

Shadowheart pulls the pins from your hands and slides them on the cuff of your dress, by your wrist. 

“There,” she says. “Easy access. And any man would be too stupid to notice them.”

You give her hand a gentle squeeze in thanks.

“You know,” she starts to say and her lips turn up in a mischievous smile. It’s a look that’s so uncharacteristically Shadowheart that you have no idea what she is going to say next. “Astarion bragged about you for days after you broke into his study. It was disgusting.”

As always, that part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise preens.

“I thought he was upset about that.” You’re shocked. That day had been one of the many times that the two of you had pinned each other to walls and traded heated words in the early days of your marriage. It still makes you a bit flustered to think back upon, even now. 

“He was upset that you saw something you weren’t supposed to, maybe.” Shadowheart chuckles. “But he was all pleased that you knew how to pick locks.”

“Why would he care?”

Shadowheart inspects you curiously. “You didn’t know? He’s the best lock picker I’ve ever met. Fast, too.”

You should have guessed that based on his beautiful, dexterous hands.

“Astarion’s good at picking locks?” You ask and you hear your own voice crack a bit at the end. A simple fact like that shouldn’t rattle you to your very core but it serves as yet another reminder of how little Astarion seemingly trusted you if he was withholding even trivial pieces of information about himself. 

How were you supposed to love someone who was so resistant to being known? It’s so unfair of him to expect you to have the resilience to continue poking and prodding at him until his defenses were finally worn down. 

Your conversation is rudely interrupted by the guards returning and clanking their keys loudly as they attempt to find the correct key to unlock the door. You and Shadowheart side-eye each other as you watch them fumble with the key ring. These thugs were idiots.

When the door is finally open and they shove inside, one roughly grabs your wrists so he can secure them in heavy metal shackles. You hold your breath, trying to turn your wrist in a way so he won’t see the hair pins on the sleeve of your dress. As Shadowheart predicted, he doesn’t notice them at all. Like you thought- idiots.

They let you walk this time, at least. The guard’s hand digs into your shoulder as he steers you down a long hallway. The prison seems like an endless maze. You’re fairly certain that you’re underground based on the damp, musty smell that permeates the air.

And then, you turn a corner and the damp air is replaced by the horrific smell of death and rotting flesh. You try to bring a hand up to cover your nose and mouth and one of the guards uses the chains to yank it back down. 

There’s so many cells- they continue down seemingly forever and they’re all filled to the brim with hundreds and thousands of people. It’s atrocious. Their mangled, bloody hands reach out to you as you pass, mouths open wide with desperate, soundless cries. 

“Oh gods,” you whisper in horror when you get a good look at one person’s black, empty eye sockets. Is this what happened to all those people who promised their souls to Raphael?

“Don’t look at them.” The guard’s gruff voice calls out and he uses his grip on your shoulder to force you to look straight ahead again. You’re still working through the after-effects of the sleeping draught and the sudden motion causes your head to spin and your stomach to turn. 

Just when you think these cages of people are never going to end, you thankfully turn the corner and are led through a beautifully ornate set of doors and up a staircase. The instant dichotomy of the new, fancy decor makes you acutely aware that the guards led you through that hallway of prisoners for a reason. It was a threat from Raphael- a reminder of what Astarion’s future holds after death.

You’re finally deposited in a large drawing room. The walls are filled with paintings and weird trinkets and artifacts that don’t look like they were made by humans. There’s a man standing with his back turned to you as he stares up at a painting on the wall. 

“You’ve got quite the set of teeth on you, from what I hear,” the man says. “And here I was expecting your husband to be the only one that bites.”

So this must be Raphael. 

He finally turns around to face you and he looks too human. He’s handsome. Not like Astarion, whose seductive, alluring beauty is meant to knock you off-guard and make you willing to offer up your throat to him in sacrifice. No, this man is handsome like a father might be- like he deserves your trust and knows what is best for you. 

You snarl at him, baring your teeth. You had learned a lot about biting in your time married to Astarion and you were certainly willing to use that knowledge now. 

“Very scary,” Raphael condescends with an amused grin. He waves his hand and the guards start pushing you forward again to the head of the room. “Now, come along. I do believe your husband has finally made it to the city, which means it’s almost time for the show.”

The show. That doesn’t sound good. You don’t like how planned out this all is. 

Your arms are raised into shackles hanging down from the ceiling and it’s all so very blase. You would think a devil would at least be a bit original in his tortures. 

Perhaps you had been spending too much time with Astarion… You were starting to grow appreciative of a bit of melodrama.

And they let Shadowheart stand in the corner of the room, surrounded by two men in shiny silver armor. Of course, she isn’t the bait- she isn’t the one forced to be put on display for a devil’s amusement. 

Raphael levels you with a stern gaze that reminds you entirely too much of your father. It has you shrinking in on yourself in a way that you hate. In your life, your father had been the only person who made you feel so small and unwilling to fight back.  

“I do believe your husband will be arriving at any moment. Do your best for me, will you?” Raphael asks, reaching forward to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. It feels like a warning, as if he somehow knows about the pins on your wrist. You try to maintain his gaze even though your instinct is to look up and ensure the pins are still snugly tucked on the cuff of your dress. Raphael’s eyes are cold and lifeless and make you want to wilt away into nothingness. “If I don’t think you look scared enough, I’ll have to inspire some true fear in you. And neither of us really want that.”

The lightly veiled threat makes the blood drain from your face. You hate to imagine what actions a devil might employ to inspire true fear in someone.

And it seems as if Raphael has planned everything down to the second because he turns away from you and over his shoulder, you can see Astarion sauntering into the room almost immediately. He has daggers in both hands and blood speckling his face and he’s never looked more beautiful. 

This is what Astarion was built for- gore and blood and revenge.

Karlach, Wyll, Lae’zel, and even Gale and Halsin, to your surprise, follow after him. All of them are armed to the teeth with weapons and covered in armor. You certainly wouldn’t want to cross them in a fight. 

“I believe you happened to find my missing wife, Raphael. Give her back and we can call this a misunderstanding,” Astarion commands. 

He’s radiant in his anger- eyes aflame with pure, unadulterated rage. They dart over to you momentarily and he seems to let out an almost imperceptible breath of relief when he sees you are mostly unharmed. You’d run to him if your arms weren’t in these damned chains. 

“I don’t think my intentions have been misunderstood at all,” Raphael says, with an air of unrefined haughtiness. Astarion bares his teeth in response and his fangs glint dangerously- a silent reminder. Raphael simply ignores him, as if Astarion doesn’t even register as a threat.  

“I’ve been a fairly… hands off boss. But in return, I expect reasonable progress. And you’ve been distracted lately, I think.” Raphael comes to stand behind you, using your body as a shield in case anyone decides to release an arrow or throw a dagger at him. 

He grabs your chin roughly, turning you so he can inspect your profile. The way his fingers dig into your skin, you are sure you will be left with bruises along your jaw. 

“I can understand why, she’s very pretty.” He leers down at you and you hate the way his eyes burn into you- like he owns you. 

You spit in his eyes and use that distraction to stomp all your weight down on his foot. His grip on your chin loosens enough that you’re able to tear yourself free from his grasp, but your arms are still chaining you to the ceiling, restricting your ability to run away. 

When you glance over to Astarion, he’s got a smug little look on his face like he’s all proud of you- like he counted on Raphael underestimating your will to fight back. And for just a second, as you’re staring into Astarion’s eyes, everything going on around you feels like background noise. For just a second, it’s you and Astarion and everything is going to be okay. 

And then Raphael shatters that illusion by talking again.

“And such a fighter.” This time Raphael’s voice doesn’t sound quite so impressed as he wipes the spit out of his eyes. He turns to Astarion, completely ignoring you now that you have proven difficult and uncooperative. “I think Harleep will enjoy breaking her in, don’t you?”

You don’t completely understand the threat but based on Raphael’s voice, Harleep is not someone you want to meet. The warning seems completely directed at Astarion and his pale face drains and his eyes go wide in response. Okay, yeah, based on his reaction, Harleep’s not a nice guy.

“I can work quicker,” Astarion says, struggling to keep his voice calm in an attempt to diffuse the rapidly escalating situation. “We have a lot of good leads. I’ll find the last gem, I promise. Just let her go.”

Raphael laughs. “You’re in no position to be adding amendments to our contract, Lord Ancunin,” He says the title like Astarion is so far beneath him. “I much prefer to see you being obedient like the good little lap dog I know you are. No wonder Cazador took such special interest in you. You’re so delightfully pathetic.”

It enrages you to hear him talking about Astarion like that. It has you nearly ripping your arms out of these chains to wrap your hands around Raphael’s throat. And Raphael is just a bit too far away for you to stomp on his foot again. Evidently, he was smart enough to learn his lesson the first time.

“Your love for the girl will be your noose. The final nail in your coffin,” Raphael says, chuckling sinisterly at his own wordplay. 

How very creative to mention coffins to a vampire, you think sarcastically.

Raphael steps closer to you again, petting your hair like you’re a pet. “And I think I’ll keep her. For now, at least. She’s lovely collateral. You can have her back when you bring me the final gem. Perhaps this will motivate you to work a bit quicker.”

Raphael moves away from you and you feel like you’re finally able to take a deep breath again. He strolls over to an imposing wooden chest at the head of the room, where a mechanism begins to hiss. With the release of steam, the chest opens, three identical pedestals emerging from within. Two pedestals showcase shiny gems, but the third remains empty. 

“Look how lonely they are,” Raphael says, gesturing dramatically to the two gems with his arm. “They’re missing the final piece. I don’t know how much longer I can be patient.”

You finally get a good look at the two gems. They look so familiar- the intricate gold metal work encasing the shining green gemstones. 

Oh shit.

Oh… shit…

You recognize those gems because you own their missing sister, carefully tucked away in a hollowed out book on your bookshelf.

Your mother’s necklace. How did she even get that gem?

Your panic and surprise bleed through on your face for a moment before you can carefully school your features. Out of the corner of your eye, you feel Astarion noticing you- and you can’t possibly hide your reactions from him. He knows you too well.

This whole time. The thing that Astarion had been looking for had been quite literally under his nose.

You don’t offer up this information. In no world were you going to let this Raphael guy get what he wants, not after he had kidnapped you and tormented Astarion. And he seems like the type of person that will keep using Astarion forever- continuing to find new, convoluted ways to keep Astarion trapped under his thumb.

And besides, if you keep this gem a secret, you might be able to turn this around in your favor. When people want something, they get desperate and they stop thinking. It was how Raphael had managed to trick Astarion into this contract to begin with and it was how Raphael was able to use you to lure Astarion into a rather obvious trap. 

No, now you might be able to use your gem to get Astarion out of his contract.

“I’m not leaving here without her,” Astarion says, through gritted teeth.

“Then stay. You can join my other eternal debtors. I’ve got a lovely cell here just waiting for you.” Raphael adopts an air that suggests he’s growing bored with the conversation now that his threats have landed. “The way I see it, you have two choices- you can give your soul to me now or you can leave and pretend to be ‘free’ until your death. You’ll get your pretty wife back when you find me my gem.”

Raphael levels Astarion with a smarmy grin. He’s dropped all pretenses of being charming at this point. “And I’ll be nice. I’ll let you come visit her from time to time. Though, I can promise you that with each visit, she’s going to look less and less lovely until I get my gem. And as a sign of good faith, I’ll even let you decide whether you want your servant back or whether you’d like her to stay and look after your wife in your absence.”

What a nasty, vile man. 

The idea of staying here forever seems miserable, for either you or Astarion. And poor Shadowheart- you know that if it comes down to it, Astarion will happily sacrifice her safety if it means you’re offered slightly more protection. 

While Raphael continues talking, waxing poetic in an ostentatious villain monologue that serves no purpose other than to remind Astarion that Raphael owns him, you work on releasing your hair pins from where they were tucked into your sleeve. The angle is awkward and the chains are digging painfully into your wrists, cutting and rubbing against your skin. You feel your skin tear, the wet blood lubricating your movements as you try to work the pins into the lock over your head. 

Astarion’s eyes dart over to you- the red tinged with fear and beneath that, hunger. He could smell your blood from where your wrists were rubbing the chains. You shake your head subtly at him to signify that he shouldn’t draw attention to you and he dutifully looks back to Raphael. Even now, it was as if the two of you still had your own hidden language.

It’s hard- your hands don’t have much movement and you’re starting to lose feeling in your fingers after so long of having your arms raised above your head, but you eventually manage to snake the pin into the lock on the chains.

You don’t let the chains clatter open immediately and give away your new advantage. Instead, you take a moment to survey the room and plan how you are going to move. There’s a stupid set of decorative crossed daggers on the wall to your left. It’s ridiculous- this whole room is filled with stupid artifacts but at least these you can use to your advantage. If you move fast enough, you can reach the daggers before the guards are able to descend on you.

You move. There’s chaos. 

The guards try to catch you and everybody swings into action. There’s arrows flying and the clink of metal as swords hit against one another and you don’t look back. You just continue moving forward toward the daggers. 

When you manage to yank one off the wall, you whirl around to survey the scene. Everyone is fighting. Astarion’s plunging his daggers into bodies left and right struggling to move closer to you. 

And Raphael is right in front of you.

The good thing about your back being against a wall is that no one can sneak up on you. The bad thing is that you’re cornered.

“Drop the knife,” he says, his hand reaching out to take it from you. “We both know you don’t know how to use it.”

Condescending asshole. 

It is probably a safe assumption on his part. Women weren’t trained in combat or swords. But you, for better or for worse, had been too curious as a child. You had snuck in to watch your brother’s sword fighting lessons. You had practiced with the wooden swords when no one was watching. 

And besides, it was not in your nature to go down without a fight.

“Wrong,” you snarl. You fake a step that catches Raphael off guard and you’re able to plunge the knife into his side. 

He grunts, doubling over in pain and clutching at where the knife sticks out of his stomach. You use the opportunity to knee him in the groin and push him to the ground. You aren’t sure how long it takes a devil to heal, but based on how quickly Astarion’s wounds heal, you’re assuming you have limited time before Raphael is coming back to his senses. 

You need to move. And fast.

“You look so stunning covered in blood. I’ve never been so aroused in my life.” Astarion’s voice surprises you from where he’s standing right next to you. It was almost supernatural, the speed with which he was able to make his way over to you. He was far more adept at fighting than you would have ever expected.

“Not the time, Astarion,” you snap back at him, even though his voice sinks into your bones, soothing you. 

“I was expecting a bit more appreciation at my rescuing you, darling,” he mocks with a little pout. 

Apparently, he was content to ignore the perilous nature of your surroundings in favor of poorly timed teasing. Typical. Your heart nearly bursts with how much you love him.

Still, you roll your eyes at him. “I had it handled!” 

Which, okay, is maybe a lie. But you did have at least some ideas on your escape plot. And a part of you, deep down, is still angry at Astarion, even if that anger is currently eclipsed by your relief at seeing him. 

You’re pulled out of your moment with Astarion and acutely reminded of all the fighting surrounding you when a sword slices by you, barely missing your head. Astarion growls and reacts almost immediately, pushing you behind him. Astarion’s getting ready to attack the man with his daggers when an arrow lodges itself in the man’s throat and you think you hear Wyll let out a delighted cry that his shot landed so perfectly. 

Despite all this chaos, you still needed to find a way to talk to Astarion. Somehow, you need to let him know that you have the final gem and that the two of you can use this as a bargaining chip.

“And I have something else, too. At home. Something you need.” You pull Astarion’s attention back to you by nudging him. You try to communicate with your eyes because you still don’t want to yell out ‘I have the final gem of Karsus.’

Astarion, the beautiful dolt that he is, doesn’t catch your meaning. He simply tilts his head a bit to the side and lets a wicked grin spread across his face, “Is now really the time to try out new lines on me, pet? I’m still a bit mad at you.”

“I’m still mad at you, too,” you shoot back defensively. Even in the midst of battle, the reminder that you have hurt Astarion makes you feel horrible.

“Good. Glad we have that settled.”

In the time that you and Astarion have been distracted by your bickering, you have wasted your precious time to escape. Raphael is standing again and you watch as he pulls the knife out of his abdomen, his face barely moving despite what you’re sure is tremendous pain.

Astarion adjusts his grip on the daggers he holds in each hand and you reach out, grabbing another knife from his belt for yourself.

“Newlyweds.” Raphael laughs- a deep, sinister thing that makes your skin crawl. “How sweet.” He spits out that last word in a way that makes you acutely aware that he means the exact opposite of what he is saying. “I have been more than fair, Astarion. I believe it’s time you paid for your insolence.”

You catch how Astarion’s spine stiffens at his words. 

And then, quicker than you can blink, Astarion is darting forward to slice at Raphael.

It’s stunning to watch Astarion fight. If you couldn’t see the daggers in his hands, you would think he was dancing.

You would try to help, but you’d probably just get in Astarion’s way more than anything. Instead, you watch his back, carefully scanning the room. Over Raphael’s shoulder, you catch Lae’zel taking down the final guard near Shadowheart and working to free her from the shackles around her own wrists. 

When Shadowheart is freed, the two of them loom behind Raphael. Good- you can use this to your advantage. Lae’zel gets a good swing at him with her heavy broadsword that causes Raphael to let out a grunt of pain. 

He bends in on himself and you’re starting to think that Lae’zel may have injured him more than you thought when Raphael’s skin turns an eerie, unnatural shade of red. Giant bat-like wings unfurl from his back and he lets them spread out. You just stand watching, stunned, as his wings move and he lifts himself into the vaulted ceilings above you so he can retreat to a less occupied section of the room.

“Fucking wings?” you ask Astarion with disbelief.

“He’s a devil. What did you expect? Kittens and fluffy puppies?” Astarion shoots back.

“Don’t condescend to me,” you hiss. “I’m not stupid, I’ve just never seen a devil before.”

You stick behind Astarion and Lae’zel, letting them cut and carve through the foot soldiers as you struggle to regroup with everyone else. Astarion slits the throat of another guard, the blood spraying wildly. It speckles Astarion’s lovely white curls and a few drops even manage to land on your cheek. You catch the way Astarion’s eyes hungrily follow your movements as you swipe the blood away. In a less dire situation, you’d reach out and let him taste the blood on your fingers. He shakes his head as if to refocus himself. 

“Never called you stupid, pet,” he says. “Naive, certainly. Reckless, definitely. Foolish… perhaps.”

You laugh. “You’re calling me foolish? Really, what was your plan here, Astarion?”

“Well, I figured we’d come here, and we’d rescue you.” Astarion narrows his eyes at you. “Not sure I needed many more details than-”

“Focus,” Lae’zel interrupts, her voice sharp and commanding. “This is a battle. This is not the time for your strange mating rituals.”

You feel your face heat up. You had not realized that you and Astarion were so obvious about the fact that both of you grew rather flustered and aroused by prodding each other. And while your verbal sparring still feels loving (everything involving Astarion had an undercurrent of love that would never go away), there was still a whisper of anger in both your words. Even after all this, neither of you would be so easy to forgive.

Close by, the rest of the group is holding strong. You think you hear Karlach shouting with glee. You’re not entirely sure what Gale is doing, but it seems to be working? One of the guards looks like they’re on fire. 

You think you might be able to win this, that the tides might be turning in your favor. And then Raphael starts speaking in some foreign, chanting language and moving his hands in a strange way and more men in metal armor appear seemingly out of thin air. 

Is this… all those people in the cells? Those who had sold their souls to Rapahel were then forced to bend to his will and obey for eternity? Astarion had escaped Cazador and now he was doomed to this fate when he died. There would be no freedom for him, not really. Not unless you killed Raphael. 

All plans for escape are banished from your mind. You were getting Astarion out of here and in charge of his own fate for once even if it was the last thing you’d ever do.  

There’s more fighting. More clashing of swords. A lot more blood. 

Raphael seems perfectly content to watch the action unfold from his heavily fortified position at the front of the room.

“Chk,” Lae’zel makes strange, displeased noise. “We must get to the source and kill him. Otherwise, this will never end.”

Astarion, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and you start working on moving closer toward Raphael while Karlach, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin remain cornered by the pillars at the entrance of the room. You aren’t entirely sure how much you’re actually helping, other than occasionally managing to slice out at guards who had entered another’s blind spots. Lae’zel does most of the heavy lifting and Astarion is sneaky and nimble, able to deftly take out guards twice his size.

The closer you get to Raphael, the more distracted he is, making him unable to summon more large quantities of more guards.

You can do this, you think. You can kill him.

And then, when you’re nearly in front of him, Raphael does that strange whispering chant again. You’re trying to decipher what he might be saying, staring intently at his mouth when-

Bang.

Some sort of wave of energy knocks into you and makes you sink to your knees. Your ears are ringing, and your head feels like it’s spinning and are you… crying? You reach your hand up to wipe away the tears and through your blurry vision, you see the red staining your hands. You were crying blood. And you feel warm liquid spilling from your ears and nose, too. 

Through the ringing in your ears, you think you hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel fall down as well, impaired by the blast. You try to turn your head to look at Astarion, but it sends a wave of nausea through you that has you holding tight to the ground as the room spins around you.

Astarion looks disoriented, but he’s still standing. Good. 

You hear heavy footsteps next to you. 

“I guess she didn’t inspire the motivation in you that I had hoped.” You hear Raphael say, but he still sounds distant in your stunned state. “Let’s see how this works instead.”

Rough hands pull your hair at the roots and you let out a pained cry before your head is bashed into the wall.

Holy fuck, that hurts.

There are stars dancing across the edge of your vision. Your head feels like your heart is beating directly inside your skull, squeezing painfully against your brain.

You think you hear Raphael laughing and Astarion screaming in rage.

That’s not good. You don’t like when Astarion is mad. You want to make him happy forever.

Your head is bashed into the wall again.

—---------

The crack your head makes against the wall is sickening. And when you crumple to the ground, Astarion is sure that the blood rapidly pooling around your head isn’t just a trick of the light.

That’s… No… This is all wrong.

Astarion wasn’t supposed to watch you die right in front of him. He was supposed to rescue you and take you home and then you would finally apologize and mean this time and he would forgive you and the two of you would go back to your little world of bliss. 

He’s in a blind panic, on a mission to get to you. Maybe there was still time? Maybe Shadowheart could still heal you? She should be an expert on working with blood loss by now. 

Astarion fights like a man possessed.

On the ride to the city, he had imagined how he’d kill Raphael. Slowly, deliberately. He’d start with his fingers- cut them off one by one for ever daring to touch you. He’d pry out his eyes next, then his tongue. And then, just when Raphael lost consciousness, Astarion would finally slit his throat and kill him.

It all sounded so wonderful and bloody.

But whatever energy wave Raphael had unleashed had crippled you, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. Astarion was disoriented, but he was the only one left standing. He was the only left that could fight. But even he is feeling the effects of the blast. He’s slow and sloppy. Astarion tries to attack with his daggers, but he misses completely.

“Come on, boy, you can do better than that,” Cazador taunts.

No, wait… that’s not right. Cazador is dead. This was Raphael- but for a second, he sounded so remarkably similar to Cazador. How many times had Astarion heard those exact words fall out of Cazador’s mouth?

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are both fighting to return to their feet and Astarion thinks he catches Shadowheart folding over to retch. They can’t fight like this. And your eyes are blearily attempting to blink open, but you look bad. Astarion is running out of time.

Raphael conjures a stake in his hand and takes slow steps forward, advancing. Astarion stumbles backward, still struggling to stay balanced on his feet after the combined shocks of Raphael’s energy surge and watching your head be bashed into the wall. 

“A pity it had to come to this but you really were as much of a burden to me as you were to Cazador,” Raphael says, continuing to move toward Astarion. “He always hated you the most- that’s part of why I picked you. That and you always seemed the easiest to manipulate. You’re so scared. It makes you weak.”

Astarion’s back hits a wall. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach and Raphael’s entire face contorts with a ugly, devilish smile as he readies the stake to be plunged into Astarion’s heart.

“And now, you’ll die,” Raphael says menacingly. “Just another one of Cazador’s whores to be forgotten.” Raphael laughs. “Did you really believe that she loved you? I always knew you were stupid, but I never imagined you would be that naive.”

So, this was how Astarion was going to die… And no one would be able to save him.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, you appear. A streak of silver flashes across Astarion’s vision and blood is spurting into Astarion’s face from where you had used the last of your strength to jam the knife into the side of Raphael’s neck. Had both Astarion and Raphael truly been so caught up in their confrontation that they had failed to notice you stumbling over toward them? 

You look completely ethereal- his guardian angel, his savior. Astarion’s prayers were finally answered the day the universe gave you to him. 

And you also look very unsteady on your feet as your eyes flutter shut again. You crumple, Astarion shocks himself with how quickly he’s able to move and catch you in his arms. Raphael makes a horrible gurgling noise as one of his hands comes up to claw desperately at his throat, but he can wait. 

Astarion lowers you gently back to the floor before grabbing his daggers again. He slices Raphael’s throat open and plunges the other directly into his heart. He’d tell Lae’zel to behead Raphael later, just so to be sure he is dead, but right now Astarion’s main priority is you. 

Astarion rushes back to you, falling to the floor as he pulls your head into his lap, attempting to coax you awake again. He hears himself screaming for anybody to help. Shadowheart is there, inspecting you with a critical eye.

“I’m sorry, Astarion- there’s not… Her head. I can’t do anything about that,” Shadowheart says.

And in that moment, Astarion doesn’t even think. You were dying and there was only one thing left that he could do to ensure that he didn’t lose you. He had to turn you into a vampire. He cradles your arm, biting into your wrist and draining the remaining blood from your body. There’s not much left, but hopefully it’s enough for the transformation to work.

Your heart stops beating. 

The fleeting thought crosses his mind that he could stop here. He could find some patch of dirt to bury you and he could wait until you claw your way back out of the earth. You would be his spawn and he could make sure that you would never leave him.

But that feels all wrong. You were someone who resisted control and you would resent him forever if he did that. He would always be left doubting whether you truly loved him or if it was only because he left you with no other choice. Astarion tears his teeth into his own wrist and cups his hand gently around the back of your head, careful to avoid the spot where your head had been smashed into the wall, as he guides your mouth up to drink his own blood. 

The greatest threat to a vampire is another vampire. Especially someone like you, who was already naturally drawn to suspicion and scheming. 

Astarion doesn’t care. 

If your first action when you awoke was to rip the heart from his chest and sink your teeth into the long-dead muscle, he would simply be grateful that his body could be your sustenance. 

Astarion watches and waits. Your lashes flutter and your mouth latches around his wrist, suckling. He’s able to breathe again as a wave of relief washes over him. You would be all right, he had made it to you in time.  

You look up at him through red, hooded eyes, teeth stained by his blood and Astarion knows that this is what you were meant to be. You always were a bit too wild to be human. 

No, you were meant for this- for the carnal desires of flesh and blood. 

It’s mesmerizing to watch you finally come alive.

-------------------

Notes:

That's right, we are now entering the vampire power couple era! But hey, good job Astarion for thinking about others and recognizing that leaving the reader as a spawn would have been a bad idea. I'm playing kind of fast and loose with vampire lore and rules (not like dnd or any other media is that consistent with the rules either lol), so in my mind you can circumnavigate the whole burying the person part if they immediately drink the blood of the vampire who turned them.

For not even being the longest chapter in this story, this one sure covered a lot! Hopefully, everyone remembered the mother's necklace from chapter 3. I try to be really intentional with the details I include, even if they seem a bit insignificant at first.

Next week, we get to deal with the fun repercussions of everyone's actions. How will the reader feel about being turned into a vampire? What will happen with the Crown of Karsus? Hehe everything will be answered in time, I promise.

As always, a huge thank you to my beta-writer, AliensNSuch on ao3. And a huge thank you to everyone reading- I hope you are all continuing to have as much fun with this story as I am!

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[melobin]

“i love all 7 not just one” yet ur so dismissive abt a certain member which clearly isn’t loving all 7 goofy ass. no wonder ur friends with ninona 🤣 both y’all r ot6ers

me when i’m onto nothing the fact you can sit and assume you know how i genuinely feel about ot7 riize is crazy to me. you can continue to think what you want to because i can assure you both ninona and i do not gaf !! im far past the point of caring if people think i negatively of me over the situation with seunghan !! i know i love seunghan ! my friends know it too ! i do not gaf if random people on the internet think differently bc frankly why should i ? i run a smut blog girl im just here to talk about cock 99% of the time 😭

if i’m being completely honest here. i feel like people seem to struggle to grasp the concept that people handle things in their own ways. i’m a very sensitive and emotional person and over the years ive been trying to deal with that in a way where i don’t get hurt so easily. i’ve been dealing with severe anxiety for years i have chronic depression if i sat and thought about seunghan’s hiatus every day i would be completely miserable and worried and that’s not how i want to be i want to be okay i want to feel okay.

grief has never been something i ever get too emotional over it just doesn’t happen, of course it’s sad to not see him there but the way i handle things doesn’t mean i dislike him in anyway shape or form and i’m frankly quite tired of having to explain myself about this. at the end of the day, if seunghan returns it’ll be one of the best things to happen, it’ll make me incredibly happy, i don’t talk about my emotions often but if you want the truth there it is. if he, god forbid, ends up being removed from riize then it will hurt me and i will be upset. i’d rather spend his hiatus in a middle group of knowing there’s realistically a 50/50 chance of him returning and him not rather than sitting and getting my hopes up only to be hurt and upset after.

the way i deal with this hiatus is for my own benefit and my own sanity, i don’t want to be sad all the time, i just barely made it out of a depressive episode and i know if i sat and dwelled on him being on hiatus then i probably wouldn’t have made it out of it. the way i treat the other 6 members is the same way i treat seunghan, i feel the same way about them all, it’s just not as simple to show that when he’s not in gifs or videos or photos.

writing about him is not as easy because i haven’t seen him for months and as time has gone by the other 6 have become more visibly comfortable and free on camera and we never got to see that with him. i love writing for him, his porn plot fic is one of my favourite fics ive written and im always happy to write for him. i just tend to write more for sungchan and eunseok because those are the members i am more sexually attracted to, im a slut man idk what you want me to say. people rarely send asks about seunghan, they’re mainly about sungchan and anton and there’s nothing i can do about that. if people send asks about him, i answer them? if they don’t then i dont, i can’t answer something that isn’t there.

i don’t mean to post such a long rant but frankly i’m just tired of having to say the same thing over and over. no, i don’t care if you think badly of me over it, i don’t care for people who think they know how i feel about something and act as if their opinion is the be all end all. so thank you for sending this so i could freely express my feelings about this.

and DAWG leave ninona out of this as well !!! she expressed why she doesn’t write for him and i touched on my own feelings about writing for seunghan. i never once viewed her in a negative way, she’s one of the funniest people ive had the pleasure of befriending and no, she doesn’t hate seunghan either !

[crimeronan]

AU Hunter taking care of Luz's hair? 🥺

YEAH... okay you guys can have my thoughts.

i'm always playing fast and loose with the number of servants on hand at any given moment. realistically luz would have servants to help her with her hair and getting dressed and whatnot, but i also like thinking about hunter taking care of her hair.

it's something i think could start when they're really little, honestly -- i'm gonna go out on a limb and say belos Probably did not bother learning how to care for his afro-latina daughter's hair, even if he was never Overtly Racist toward her. (i DO think the novelty of "you're a human!! <3" overpowered everything else wrt her skin tone, thank god.)

and given that he is Child Neglect Georg, it probably wasn't getting taken care of until hunter himself was like. hey. this is making luz Miserable. i fix.....

very fond of the idea that one of the few times hunter has actually asked darius for help has been in learning to moisturize and wrap and braid textured hair.

anyway with all of this as background, my main thought Today was about the worst timeline AU, where luz spends months thinking he's dead and completely gives up. on everything. under ordinary circumstances camila would help her with her hair, but luz does Not like being touched (for perfectly understandable reasons) and is prone toward freaking out, so camila is very anxious at the thought of asking to detangle or cut it.

so hunter gets there and sees that luz's hair is a giant fucking mess, which is part of why he thinks camila has been neglecting/hurting her, and he spends most of that first night going through approximately 85% of the hair products in the bathroom as he detangles the mats. because luz doesn't have any problem being touched by him and in fact wants him to stay near her and keep touching her hair for as long as possible. & hair care as a form of intimacy gets me Every Tiiiime......

waugh.

[supernovasilence]

Casmund happy ending: I love the idea of the Pevensies(mostly Edmund) trying to teach Caspian how to function in the real world with them. I think Edmund Lucy and Susan's favorite part would be trying to get him proper clothes. He basically looks regal and princely in everything he wears. Also when Edmund introduces Caspian to his mother. He's super charming, kissing her hand and stuff. Peter is a little(maybe a lot annoyed) of Caspian dating his brother. But he gets over it really quick. Their mother takes Edmund and Caspian's relationships really well. It's mainly their father they have to deal with. But Peter puts his foot down and talks to his father. Gives him basically an ultimatum. Accept your son as is, or lose all your children and not just one. Because the Pevensies are ride or die for each other. And Edmund and Caspian are basically married in all the ways that matter.

Sorry for the late response! I was thinking about Caspian in the real world, and wanted to ask if you've seen the Dorian Gray movie with Ben Barnes, because the beginning with innocent Dorian wandering London around all wide-eyed gives off such Caspian-in-England vibes. I couldn't find any gifs of that scene on tumblr, and instead of just screenshotting it like a reasonable person I thought "well, I know how to make gifs. how long could it take?" AND THEN IT WAS 2AM. Anyway have these gifs of Caspian completely failing to act casual while I ramble about your ask.

(yeah it'd be more cars than horse-drawn carriages by the 1940s but Caspian almost getting run over was too cute to leave out. he's trying his best)

Oh my gosh yes, Caspian is the sort to kiss people's hands. The chivalrous disaster. He probably goes around calling people "my lady" and "my good lord" etc too. And he absolutely would somehow look regal in whatever he wears. Edmund is torn because he wants Caspian to blend in, but also his boyfriend looks so gorgeous. Also imagine Edmund tying Caspian's tie for him. And the hat Caspian is wearing in the gifs above looks a lot like the one Edmund wears in Prince Caspian. What if Edmund is scolding Caspian, telling him mess up your hair or something, slouch a little more, you still look like a king, stop standing like you've got a crown on— And Caspian grabs Edmund's hat from the coatrack and puts it on. "Does this help?" he asks, grinning, because Edmund's brain just stopped working for a moment and Caspian knows it.

As much as I want the Pevensie parents to just be okay with their son being gay (or their children, because let's be real, none of these siblings are straight), realistically at least one of them would have some difficulties with it. I love Peter not being happy about Edmund and Caspian dating but instantly getting over it when he needs to defend them to his father. These siblings are so close and it's so good. Imagine traces of the High King showing through as Peter calmly, firmly tells his father Edmund and Caspian are together. This is how things are going to go, and there is nothing he can do except make himself miserable by pushing his children away. And Richard* sees a side to his oldest son he hasn't before--or maybe hasn't accepted before, but it has been there for a while. And he takes some time to really look at his children, and sees all sorts of things about them, strange things, but they make his children seem so alive. Like how happy Caspian makes Edmund. So after that the parents have a new son-in-law.

*props for LWW use Richard as Mr. Pevensie's first name and since he doesn't have one in the books I'm taking Richard and running with it

[couldtransitionsaveher]

ANDREAS MALER from PENTIMENT

JUSTIFICATION:

"[very slight spoilers] while its not explicitly called this ingame/is left up to interpretation and was probably intended to be just a metaphor (bc they dont have the same conception of mental illness) hes more or less canonically a system w/a female alter who ends up being the only alter to persist thru the whole game, aka over twenty years, and is miserable in his arranged marriage to a woman he barely knows/if you choose the hedonist background for him it's kind of implied he doesnt really want to get married at all (still implied regardless, but more strongly so with that background). and also when he shows up in later portions of the game w/a more masculine appearance in this he's deeply unhappy albeit for a variety of reasons (but i see no reason why this couldn't be one of them). he spends literally his entire life trying to run away from the person his dad and society in nürnberg expected him to be. and also hes pretty and has long hair and i want to see him in a dress. realistically given the time period no it wouldnt but spiritually yes. basically what im saying is in a modern au act 1 andreas would be a broke but insanely talented ex tradcath painter on estrogen trying to make a living out of a studio apartment after her family cut her off but she'd be better off for it mentally" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?