#sneakfangs

[weavehearted]

@sneakfangs

"Ah, ah-- Keep your eyes closed just a moment longer. No peeking!"

Gale leads Astarion by the hand, only letting go when they reached their apartment door. he fumbles with the key, nearly dropping it from a mixture of excitement and nervousness. with little bits of their realm leaking through to their new surroundings, an idea had come to him rather quickly. one could argue the return of their abilities would be better spent aiding in an escape plan or perhaps defeating any pesky monsters that sometimes slipped through the portals, but to Gale, that all could wait.

give us a day, he thinks, to share in each others company in total comfort.

he pushes open the door and it is not the same apartment they were used to. a simple illusion, mere childs play for him, created a near exact replica of Gale's room back home. the sight almost makes him want to weep. the bookshelves and stacks of tomes, a fire crackling in the hearth, all of his statues and paintings and other such knickknacks exactly where he had left them. artificial sunlight peeks through the door to the terrace with all the warmth of the real thing, but with no risk of harming Astarion.

"Okay. You can open them."

Gale gestures to the room with a flourish, enthusiasm clear in his voice.

"Ta-daaa. A little piece of my home back in Waterdeep. I...I wanted to share it with you, while I am able to."

[underteika]

@sneakfangs liked for a starter!

It's a pretty late night out for Anda, but restlessness kept them walking and wandering. They could go the scenic route to pick up some cigarettes tonight. (This was never a good time of year for them... Now they can place why.)

("...Oh, that's the pale guy I gave a couple joints to a couple days ago. Hey, man.")

But the momentary distraction at waving to the familiar face across the street was all it took, and there's a resounding CLANG as they walk right into a light pole.

("Tssss... ow, ow ow... fuck...")

[corvisque]

@sneakfangs replied: "There's no way in the hells you're older than thirty."

"You don't know this for a fact. Perhaps elves age slower where I'm from. Perhaps my skincare routine is flawless."

[isolaradiale]

Applying for Astarion Ancunin from Baldur's Gate, application is in /app, or the 'app' icon link.

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Astarion!

You will be housed in HOUSE 101.

You'll retain the use of supreme sneak up to five times per day for five minutes each use (or if interrupted). You'll also be given a toy bow and arrow, a wooden sword, and some vials of blood to help you until you can find a vendor.

-- mod altair.

[blankticket]

@sneakfangs / from [ this ]:

"Uh, feel… Free?"

If he was just slightly more dazed, he could swear that Astarion sounded like the one who was hurt! Vash smiles up at the other guy—winces—as he tries to prop himself up on his elbows. His good leg folds up for better stability, with the injured one kept still.

"Ah, but it—likely looks worse than it is, stranger." Wasn't often that a good samaritan wanted to look right at an injury. A fellow medic of some kind? "Just need a sec to rest."

[punisheye]

3 & 5

meme.

3. has your muse been mainly attracted to men, women, non-binary people, another identity not specified, or an even split (between two, many, or all of the options specified)?

while wolfwood is very much a gay man, sexuality has been an odd struggle for him due to the fact he was forced to, quite literally, grow up too fast, and never got to experience a proper childhood. he was never able to really grow into himself and his sexuality in a healthy way. and i think there was some guilt over realizing he was gay at first which, unfortunately, during his unhealthy attempts at exploring his sexuality, ended up with him probably sleeping with some women which only made him feel worse in the end.

i definitely started rambling instead of answering the question. um. he's exclusively gay. man liker. nonbinary people are included. he's never genuinely been attracted to a woman.

5. what is your muse's ideal first date?

getting caught in the middle of a gunfight and narrowly escaping via motorcycle then going out for pasta later and forcing the other guy to pay

[tarantucutie]

continued from ask. @sneakfangs.

🕸️ // oh, this man's going to regret laughing at mimi. he's going to regret it so bad! who cares that ghost-type humans resist poison, he's gonna sting him! with a grunt of effort, he flings a strange little barb into astarion's hand, filled with noxious venom… that feels about as itchy and nasty as a bad mosquito bite, perhaps maybe at the level of half of a bee sting at most. || mimi used poison sting! it's not very effective… || Astarion flinches as the barb sinks into the soft, pallid flesh of his hand. "Well, that's not very nice," he scolds, pulling out the stinger with the habitual disinterest of someone used to being injured. "We ask before we bite. Or sting." He stares at his hand, scoffing. The wound's starting to swell a bit, marring his perfect skin. "Ugh. Serves me right for complimenting spiders. But at least you're not a rat."

🕸️ // at the risk of seeming unreasonable, mimi finds he is getting quite sick and tired of being cooed at without his approval! when he's scary, he should be terrifying, but no, everyone bigger than him laughs! frankly, he's had enough! it's time for him to win for once! he squeaks and screeches and hops up and down upon the wooden box he's made into a proper sunning spot, the noise quickly drowned out by the translation collar around his neck buzzing to life.

i'll bite you however much i please, and i don't need to ask nothin'! arceus can't stop me, and neither can you! i'll rip you inside out, see how you like it!

despite his rage, he is still just a spider on a crate. perhaps a larger spider than most have seen, but such is the fate of a spinarak.

[hanlengjun]

@sneakfangs continued from here

If it weren't for a certain someone's constant badgering of 'you need to learn better manners' or 'you should talk to people instead of throwing them around like rag-dolls' Mobei Jun would've kicked this guy in the ass without a care in the world. The muscles in his back stiffen and his knuckles crack under the strain from repressing his instincts. He looks positively miserable.

"En." Hearing this, Mobei Jun scoffs and grabs the pale elf by that ruffled silk collar and reels him in. He leans over and gives him a whiff, but then immediately lets go, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like you rolled around in bottles of perfume and.. copper. It is heavy in my nose." That's not the worse thing to drop from his mouth, one could even consider it a thoughtful comment were they accustomed to demons and their abhorrent manners.

"Continue." With the compliments is what he means.

[weavehearted]

“ did you want to be alone? ”

it's a strange feeling, the one he gets in his chest sometimes. it is not a tightness like he might feel on a particularly dour night, but a sharp sting that eventually faded into an ache. the reasoning eluded him for a long while, but he eventually realized it was a sort of phantom pain, an annoyingly painful remnant of the orb. he wasn't actually hurt, but his body remembered it after suffering for so long.

unfair. people were not supposed to remember their hurts.

when the door opens, Gale silently curses. he's sure he's a sight to been seen-- hunched over, gripping his chest. it will pass, he reassures Astarion, it's not even real pain.

"Did you want to be alone?"

hah!

it would be so easy just to say yes. to suffer in silence and by his lonesome (minus Tara, of course) like he had for so long. it's what he deserved, just another reminder of his folly. but times had changed. even if the pain was familiar, his suffering didn't have to be.

"Not particularly. Though, I fear I'll be dreadful company until this passes."

[weavehearted]

@sneakfangs continued from here

he knows he ought to be more careful, but to deny that he could be clumsy would be a complete lie. accidentally hurting himself was commonplace, but he's not sure he'll ever get used to having someone around who can smell when it happens. Astarion practically reacts before Gale even says anything, jumping into action before can even process what's going on.

"It's nothing serious, I assure you. I've had much worse-- Wait. What do you mean?" it takes a moment for him to realize he's not asking how the injury happened, but why, he assumes, his blood smells the way it does. Gale always had a hunch that his affliction caused more alterations to his body than it should have, and this only confirmed it. mingling with the magic in his veins was something darker, a gift from Karsus.

hah. a gift. he thinks not.

despite being the one bleeding, Astarion's laughter and expression makes Gale take pause. he peers at him, a brow raised, using his own hand to cover his wound now.

"Are you alright? If this is bothering you, say the word, and I'll go somewhere else and take care of it."

[weavehearted]

"So, Gale~" Astarion begins, stretching out that final e, "I got into an argument with Tara. She says your beard has to go," he snickers, unable to look the wizard in the eye lest he falls over in a fit of laughter.

what was it about his beard that provoked such ire from Tara? sure, she was used to seeing him clean-shaven, but he didn’t consider his beard to be unkempt. in fact, he made sure it wasn’t messy every morning! he was rather used to seeing himself with it these days.

“Not you too,” Gale practically groans, squinting at Astarion as he avoids eye contact. suspicious. “Did she really rope you into this or are you just trying to be annoying?” honestly, he could see both options; Tara could be quite convincing, but Astarion…well, he knew how to press the wizard’s buttons. “I’ve no plans to shave. Not all of it, at least.”

[weavehearted]

⭐️

Send ⭐️for a headcanon about our muses.

Once they get to a more comfortable, casual level of touch (as in, they move on from slight touches here and there to actual hugs and prolonged touch), Gale does his utmost to convey warmth to Astarion. He's particularly fond of going outside, soaking up the suns heat into his own clothes and skin, and then returning home to hug Astarion. It's silly, but he feels the transfer of warmth is the closest thing to the real deal.

plus he gets a hug out of it

[weavehearted]

night terrors .

hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare

the occasional nightmare was to be expected, even bordering on commonplace. they were born from a place of stress, of anxiety, of unprocessed emotion and fear, all of which Gale found himself saddled with a lot of. he liked to think he handled it well on the regular, ever the optimist (he had his moments on the contrary, of course, anyone would agree), but the unconscious mind proved weak. unguarded. untrained.

in his dream he is decaying.

not mentally, but physically falling apart as the hours, minutes, seconds ticked by. the orb in his chest pulsed hungrily, glowing fiercely as the magic stole the life from his body. all he could do was watch as the color seeped from his skin, painful cracks like veins forming from the orb outwards. it was a perfect corruption from the inside out-- and he was powerless to stop it.

it's what he deserved. right? for his mistake. his greed.

no! not like this.

his dream self cries out past the overwhelming taste of bile in his throat and he weakly grabs for the figure hovering just out of reach. Mystra. beautiful, ethereal, unbothered. if she hears him, she doesn't react.

Gale jolts awake, eyes opening to a dark room, gasping for the air his decaying dream self couldn't get enough of. he swallows hard and goes to push his hair from his face only to realize that his arm is being held.

Astarion lays on his side next to him, a pale arm outstretched over Gale's chest and arms, holding him protectively. he wonders briefly if he had been restless, tossing and turning trying to escape his nightmare. the coolness of Astarion's body against his fevered skin feels wonderful and Gale, tired and weak of mind, can only meekly scoot closer.

after the vivid scene of watching, of feeling, his own body deteriorate, the simple act of being held was grounding. Astarion's surprisingly gentle, yet firm arm tucked around him served as a reminder that Gale was still here. still whole, still alive, and much more than the damned orb stuck in his chest.

with a shuddering, shaking breath, Gale holds back tears and lets himself be held.

[corvisque]

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

— AN ASSORTMENT OF DIALOGUE PROMPTS (NOT ACCEPTING)

there is a moment of silence where zevran cannot help but find himself waiting for the inevitable smarmy, vaguely insulting follow-up. he cannot peer into astarion's thoughts, of course, but he knows very well the vampire does not trust him -- or anyone else, for that matter. ( save the wizard, perhaps ) it's never offended him. trust invites danger, and danger is best avoided whenever possible. he feels much the same way, truth be told.

he expects his fellow elf to continue. he does not. zevran is left blinking, uncertain. this is not their usual little game, and any smart quips the assassin should make die on his tongue.

"I would not be so sure," he finally brings himself to speak. there's a tiredness in his words and in his eyes. had astarion truly been wrong about him? it is hard to say. but zevran knows now he has done a great disservice to the vampire, to have ever thought him a mere beast, even in passing.

"But I have misjudged you, as well. For that I can only apologize."

[hanlengjun]

@sneakfangs cont from here

As a result from years of lavish meals and decadent drinks, anything less than what he craved was almost insulting. Needless to say Mobei Jun is spoiled rotten, if he didn't need to eat it or drink it he wouldn't. Human alcohol was atrocious, but he's taken a liking to red wines. Not the dry shit that puckers his lips, but the sweet kinds that leaves him yearning for more. Unfortunately for him, there was no wine. So he settled on bourbon, which was also shit.

"Is that so?" He casts his cool gaze upon the pale one, staring at him with ice in his eyes. Mobei Jun recognizes that look; hunger. It's the same look he'd often give his human right before spiriting him away to be devoured. "Here." The glass of bourbon slides across the countertop and ends up sitting before the pale one. It's what he hungered for, and Mobei Jun certainly wasn't going to drink it. "All yours."

[thiefguild]

saints! he liked the sound of that. he really thought he should have ended up as emperor, the closest he could get to 'saint' status while still alive, but he would settle for his place as a lord. not that any of that mattered here.

"Sure will! 'Specially if you get blue or purple. Red, too, probably, but that might just blend in with your tongue, y'know?" he gestures towards the stall where he got it. "You can decorate it yourself, if you want!"

"It is. And if you think about it, we're quite heroic ourselves—liberating goods from the greedy hands of the rich, helping redistribute wealth. Why, we're practically saints!"

Astarion claps, delighted he's turned this man's mood away from dourness—alright, Gale does have a point about being nice once in a while feeling, well, nice—and even more so at the reward, even if it'll taste like nothing to him. "Oh, will it dye my tongue? There's someone I could tease with that..."