#weeping and wishes

[companionjones]

Weeping & Wishes

Pairing: Austin Moon x Reader

Fandom: Austin & Ally

Summary: Austin finds you crying in a convenience store on your birthday.

Warnings: Austin says a curse word!

*******

When Austin saw you, it was pretty obvious to him that you'd been crying. You were sure it was obvious to everyone around you, but he was the only one who said anything about it.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

You had been sniffling and staring at one of the sides of the candy isle. Your eyes went wide as you turned to stare at him.

Sure, you knew that he was in the convenience store. He was Austin Moon for pete's sake. You'd been crushing on him since middle school. But never in a million years did you think he'd talk to you without being prompted to by some sort of classroom assignment.

"Yeah," you mumbled out. You figured it was better to answer him late than never.

His brow furrowed at your lie. "No, you're not. You've been crying."

You looked away from him when you felt another wave of tears welling up. "Yeah," you agreed with him.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey." Austin put down the basket he'd been carrying to comfort you. He put his hands on your shoulders and levelled himself to look directly into your eyes. "Why are you so sad?"

"It-it-it's my birthday, a-and I've just had the w-worst day..."

Austin smiled, but his eyes were sad. "It's your birthday? Happy birthday."

As your head fell, you didn't even have it in you to say, "Thank you."

Austin's brow furrowed again as he swallowed and licked his lips. "Hey. It's 8pm. The day's not over yet, right?"

Confused as to where he was going with that, you shook your head.

His smile seemed more genuine. "Great. Then I can still turn this around..."

And turn it around he absolutely did. First, Austin had you pick out your five favorite candies, your favorite drink, and your favorite kind of cake, and he bought it all for you. Austin then took you back to his place where you and him watched your favorite movie, that Austin had somehow never seen. He fell in love with it. The rest of the night, the two of our just talked and caught up.

"I just don't understand..." you confessed with a chuckle at one point.

Austin was putting a handful of one of the snacks into his mouth. "Don't understand what?" came his muffled question.

"Why did you come up to me tonight?"

He chewed and swallowed his food. "You were crying," he answered like it was obvious.

"I know, but you didn't need to do that. We don't...know each other." You hesitated to say that last part.

Austin looked at you like you were joking. "Don't know each other? We've known each other since the sixth grade."

That shocked you to hear. "You remember me from all the way back then?"

"Of course I do, Y/n. Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know," you honestly answered. This new information was throwing your head through a spin.

Austin glanced at the clock before he sat up next to you in his bed. "Now that it's past midnight, can I ask you a question?"

"I'm not sure what the timing has to do with this, but yes."

He hesitated. "I didn't want to ask you this on your birthday, but can you tell me what happened today to make you so upset?"

You took a moment to answer, and that seemed to have stressed him out. "You don't need to answer if you don't want--"

"--No, it's okay," you responded truthfully, "It's just that...it feels so stupid now."

"I promise you it's not stupid." Austin moved to grab both your hands.

You looked at your connected hands for a moment, then you looked up at Austin.

Austin was looking at you when you looked up, then he looked down at your hands. He pulled his hands back.

You swallowed before starting, "It's just that...for days leading up to my birthday, everyone was wondering what I wanted to do. I could only come up with one thing, but apparently that thing 'wasn't good enough' and 'was a waste of time'. Some of them said they would do it with me, but they all flaked when the time came."

"What was it?" Austin wondered, "What was the thing?"

At those questions, you just smiled and motioned your head towards Austin's TV. "It was sitting with me and watching that movie we just watched."

For a few moments after that, you and Austin just sat there, gazing at each other gratefully.

Then, a big realization dawned on Austin's features. "Oh, shit!" He scrambled out of bed and exited his room.

You sat there, confused on his bed until he got back.

Austin was carrying your cake, all lit up with candles. He looked apprehensive, however. "I wanted to do this while it was still your birthday." He carefully returned to sit beside you.

"Austin, do you have any idea how little it matters to me to blow out my candles on my birthday? Not only did you watch my movie with me, you loved it, and you were kind enough to buy me snacks and a cake? Do you have any idea how I feel right now?"

The boy seemed in shock by your overtly thankful words.

So, you blew out the candles. Then, you kissed Austin Moon. "Can you guess what my wish was?"

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[lonely-night]

— Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait in Letters

[each-uisge-enthusiast]

the modern villainisation of demeter will never cease to enrage me bc it wasn’t ENOUGH to just take a story of a girl being torn from her home from everyone who loved her and dragged away to be forced into marriage and twist and corrupt it until it was a romance story about female empowerment that wasn’t ENOUGH they HAD to take the original hero of the story the mother who went to every length to find her daughter again to bring her home and demonise her character until she was this horrific overbearing unloving mother. overprotective controlling without love. they turn the story of her grief at her YOUNG daughter being torn from her without her knowledge into the story of a misunderstood bad boy and a horrible cruel mother who won’t give him a chance and i really find it sickening. it’s ironic, that the ever misogynist age of hellenistic greece, has a better grasp of how disgusting and horrifying this situation was that a modern, self proclaimed ‘feminist’ era.

[saltpepperbeard]

crying, quite literally this time, so so hard over their reunion just being cloaked in so much hope and warmth. the idea that you think you’re a horrible person but someone still loves you and sees you to your core. the idea that you think you’re all alone but you never really are.

the idea that somewhere, somewhere, someone is right there for you. someone wants you to be around. someone loves you despite it all.

[bumpercarting]

those who know... And those who innovate.....

not very content with this as i kinda rushed it after losing motivation a few days ago but i love them too much... I was initially only drawing bauhauzzo but huzzle popped in and i couldnt say no....!!

[snoflurriee]

james potter would make the perfect 80s movie jock. like he would rock those jersey crop tops and tiny little shorts over a pair of gray sweatpants with some pristine white sneakers. he has a red sports car that he and his pa spend the weekends working on and it's his pride and joy (no one else can drive it.) he's ridiculously rich, unfairly fit, a class clown but still super smart, and the definition of being a heartthrob. he could have anyone he wants but he's doomed to pine after the one person that doesn't give him the time of day. not to mention the character arc he'd have!!! anyways i love him

[pim-piml1ng]

DJJFFIIFKVKVIVKVJGKFJEJDJCJCJCJCNNVVNVJJFJFKRKRJFKGKGKGJGKJFKFKTKGKGKKGKGKGGKGTJNESNZLXLSLEIJRKTNVKFKSJHEJGKVKSOJEHGJCJSKKEKGIEOWKSJJCJFKRJTJHYJCKSKWKOQOQORIFJJCNCNGNKRKWKRITJJDMSLWKRIUFSNSKFJNFJDKSKFJ

[beddybites]

Ok try this; Rengoku has to take baby Obanai to the Flame Estate for the night because everyone else that normally takes care of him is busy, and he got the night off. Inconviently enough, Kyojuro has to go get some baby safe foods since they don't really have any. And his dad is the only one awake (Senjuro had an early bed time since he stays awake most nights waiting for Kyojuro to get home, what a sweetie)...so Kyojuro has to leave Obanai with Shinjuro. Cue Shinjuro having a bit of nostalgic baby fever and forgets about drinking for a while as he hugs and coddles Obanai, sobbing ever so softly as to not wake Senjuro.

[m340700]

found an old thing

[goldenduckie]

I love stranded lullaby soo much you guys im so deranged about it

[rillils]

One bright morning changes all things.

Hozier, First Light | @catws-anniversary

[charmwasjess]

Legends vibes continue: young Dooku and Yoda flashback in Yoda: Dark Rendezvous by Sean Stewart aka my everything

[isatling-husbandry-guide]

So, as someone looking to adopt an isatling, what are the available options? Are there many variations of them - say, a Siffrin that keeps both eyes, or a Mirabelle that lacks a shawl - or is there just one overall version for each?

Isatlings have tons of options! There’s a lot of species, making it very difficult to name them all. I urge you to browse through listings of domesticated species! I recommend starting with a Mirabelle, Bonnie, and perhaps even an Isabeau, as they're beginner friendly and have a lot of information available since they're some of the most popular and friendly species, but there's tons of other species out there you can start with! I personally have so much love for Fishing Ones; they're so cool!

When it comes to adoption, think about what you’re looking for in an Isatling! For example, caretakers who want something more independent may steer towards an Odile, while more hands-on caretakers will lean towards a Bonling or King. Consider how much you're willing to spend on an Isatling. Loops and Mirabelles tend to be less costly to care for (though Loops are known to cause damage to household objects if not properly trained), while Housemaiden varieties are often more costly on account of their need for a constantly changing environment (ESPECIALLY Claudes). Also keep in mind how much space you have available. A lot of species thrive when given a tankmate, but they still need space! Make sure you have the resources and space available to properly home your Isalting(s). Ultimately, it's all about finding one that fits your needs best.

Yes, absolutely there’s variations for individual species! Like any other living thing, Isatlings can have different appearances and characteristics than are standard for their species. It’s not too uncommon for a Siffrin to keep both eyes, or for a Euphrasie to have strands or sections of disshaded hair (calico Euphrasies are some of the cutest examples of this, if you ask me). However, some things are actual health issues or intentionally bred deformities rather than species varieties. The most prominent example can be found in armor-less Kings. This so called "specialized breed" been paraded around as being “safe for any caretaker to handle”, despite the fact that a King without armor is greatly at risk since its armor is its main physical defense system and majorly contributes to its maintenance of homeostasis. Keep an eye out for listings that have these types of differences without properly labeling or indicating that the Isatling will need additional care.

Here’s a little guide. Adoption fees can also be a warning sign, but not always.

I suggest looking at rescues first instead of breeders. Isatlings of all stages and species can be found in them, and working with a rescues and fosters directly can help with getting familiar with caring for an Isatling. A good example, and one of my favorite rescues to peruse is, the Siffrin Sanctuary project, a rescue that posts updates of the Siffrins available for adoption and re-home.

[writeshite]

Nothing Do Us Part

Summary:

The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly. Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.”

Pairings:

Astarion x Male!Reader

Tags:

Long-Haired Astarion | Bhaalspawn Reader | Ascended Astarion |

Words: 1828

Author's Note:

Guess who's not dead lmfao (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧ I found out there's a Bhaalspawn ending where they turn themselves in, and I was like, Ascended Astarion would not be happy about that.

The spawn came at first light, walking into Crimson Draughts with a curt smile; the curly mop of white that Araj had once hopped to brush her cheek whilst her life danced on the edge was now long curled trusses of hair reaching past his shoulders to his mid-back. “I need you to find someone.” His words went in one ear and out the other as Araj examined him; he was different from when she’d first set eyes on him and his intriguing companion in Moonrise.

“I’m surprised to see you alive, spawn,” she remarks. “I’d thought you dead in Moonrise.”

“Oh, hardly,” he laughs, “but I’m not here to discuss past adventures. As I said, I need you to find someone.”

“I heard you the first time, and I’m not a bloodhound,” she corrected.

“Hence my request, an expert of the sanguine arts, I believe is what you called yourself,” he fished a vial from his pockets, “I will reimburse you in as much gold and whatever equipment you require, as long as you find who I’m looking for and place an unerasable tether on said person. Understood?”

“Whose blood is it?” 

“Hardly any of your concern, is it? Now, will you take the job, or shall I pursue Sorcerers Sundries to find someone more willing to take my commission?” 

Araj huffed, “My, my, aren't we touchy? I’ll take your commission.”

The blood was intriguing. It radiated malice and murderous intent—as odd of observation as that was—the red would bloom darker colours before shifting back to red, and the odour was equally as odd, smelling too much like blood, a sharp, strong iron that piqued her interest. A godling’s blood? An Aasimar, perhaps? Though Araj wasn’t certain if such creatures bled, regardless, she had no doubt the spawn had brought her the blood of someone divine; whether said person was of the holy or unholy persuasion, she remained uncertain.

The Upper City was abuzz when Astarion returned; artisans, sages, pole-carters, and all manner of people traversed the streets of the Upper City. Astarion weaved through the crowd to his home in Manorborn, Ancunín Castle—his haven of estates he’d parted from a few patriar families—he’d spent quite some time hunting down artificers to add to his horde of spawn; he'd set them to work and rebuilt the castle from the grounds up to better suit his needs.

“Welcome home, Master Astarion,” Harette greeted him, a small bow accompanying her words; she took Astarion’s coat and folded it away as she caught him up on the morning’s events, “The artificers finished installing the sun-sift glass over the courtyards and atriums, and have begun casting warding glyphs per your instructions. The dungeons have been refurbished for the Rillyn’s children's stay, and you’ve a new bundle of invitations from other patriar families arrive this morning.” She finishes her morning catch-up as they reach his study.

“Thank you, Harette,” Astarion sat at his desk, dismissing her; he sifted through the invitations on his desk—Belt, Hullhollyn, Tillerturn—letters to their parties, brunches, and whatever else Astarion read through. He replies to them, declining their invitations with kind apologies and half-felt promises to join the next festivity; far more pressing matters needed Astarion’s attention. The Fist and Harpers had done a better job than expected covering their tracks whenever they moved you, but Astarion had come close a few times before, hence the need for the Drow, much to his displeasure. He may have been impervious to sunlight now, but the harpers had enlisted the help of Lathandernites and Selûnites, and Astarion wasn’t going to chance his resistance to sunlight, much less holy light. Astarion had been greatly against you turning yourself in; the stubborn persistence he’d usually find adorable became annoying, “If you’re worried about rampaging, you shouldn’t. I can keep you in line; I’ve done it before.”

“I wasn’t Bhaal’s Chosen then, just his progeny,” you’d corrected him, “I barely managed to hold myself back from harming you in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; I can’t—”

“I’m not some runaway spawn anymore; I’m a Vampire Ascendant.” Astarion had corrected bitterly, but despite his reassurances, he hadn’t been able to deter you from the decision, but it didn’t deter him. Some coin in the right purse and spawn or two in the right place, and he could visit you whenever he pleased, “You should leave.” You’d clung to him regardless of the venom in your words, desperate for some semblance of comfort; your initial prison had been some small nook under Wyrm's Rock Fortress, illuminated by torch and what bioluminescent fungi managed to break ground.

“I told you, pet,” he’d dug his nails in your back, later carving his name along your spine “lovers forever.” He absentmindedly traced the gauntlet you’d torn from Gortash’s body and had modified for Astarion, “I’m not sure if I should be honoured or revolted in some manner,” he’d joked then, yet the gauntlet still held its powerful magic and had been a constant presence on Astarion.

“I don’t remember much; I think I tore this from some patriar’s arm or stole it from a wizard before giving it to Gortash, I don’t know. What I do know is that I love you more than anything.”

“I’m meant to be a fearful Vampire,” he’d huffed, softening for a moment, “you make it quite hard to do so, pet.” Even as Bhaal’s murderous lunacy consumed your mind, a minuscule part of rationality remained, just enough to leave Astarion unharmed during his visits; the same could not be said about the Harpers tasked with guarding you. Astarion’s last visit was met with an empty prison and no Harpers in sight. Clever bastards had a headstart; he was almost offended by how well they predicted him following after them, but not surprised as Jaheira and Minsc had involved themselves in your transfer elsewhere before their expertise and skill were requested outside Baldur’s Gate.

The Drow asks for quite a hefty sum and a new plethora of equipment to complete her work, but she does manage, creating a tether as he’d requested; Astarion pays her for her service and prays he never needs it again. The tether leads to Myth Drannor, in the Dalelands, south of the River Tesh and some distance from Shadowdale; Astarion sneaks himself under the guise of a Harper, replacing the one he’d fed on some time prior, while he may have found where you were he now needed to find where specifically in Myth Drannor you were.

Everything was bloody. The floors of your cell were smeared in blood and dirt; the effigy you’d built yielded no response from your father. Nothing did. Pleading, crying, screaming, and tearing at your meat suit did nothing but elicit silence from the Lord of Murder. Your breaths were rugged and short, coming in quick succession as you fought to keep yourself in control of your person; Bhaal’s silence drove your mind to wander, to sing for blood; you shook your head and screamed, whacking the piled rats and punching the nearest wall. You repeated the action until you felt less like clawing at your meat suit.

You were quick to notice the pale elf approaching your cell, and you shook your head as your eyes widened when you recognised Astarion. The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly.

Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.” 

“How did you find me?” You stared at him desperately, holding his hand for dear life. 

“That drow we met at Moonrise has her uses,” he responds, tugging at your arm, “we can catch up when we’re far from here.” 

You followed without resistance, shuffling along the dark narrow corridors, it was luck that you didn’t bump into anyone on your way out, or the journey back to Baldurs Gate. It’s another miracle Astarion sneaks you through to the Upper City without spilling any blood. He led you to a large set of manors lumped under one estate by the looks of the courtyard, a handful of people moved about tending to said courtyard—sweeping, trimming the hedges, polishing the statuettes, and cleaning the fountains.

“Nice home,” you commented.

“Thank you, pet,” the elf is cheerfully proud of his home. The servants stop in their work when they spot Astarion, and all bow, returning to their work respectively once the elf walks past them. The interior is as lavish as the exterior—a richly coloured rug drew a path along the floor; at each side, paintings and columns alternated along the walls as chandeliers lined the ceiling above. More servants are also busy at work here; they bow the same as the ones outside and only continue their work once Astarion has passed them. 

The servants give you uncertain glances, confusion and fear in their expressions. “Ignore them pet; they should know better,” Astarion hissed, and their gazes darted away.

“Are they spawn?” you inquire.

“Most,” he shrugged in response, leading you through the halls to a room devoid of anyone else close by. His room, no doubt. “Some outsiders from the Outer City looking for a new life.” He led you to a tub and ran it with water and just about every perfume and soap he had at his disposal and all but begs you to step into the tub. It takes five cases of andanthe and shampoo to clean your hair thoroughly and two pitchers of a strong-scented liquid wash soap to wash out the dirt from the skin. Astarion picks up the skin and food between your teeth and shoves a whole stick of tooth powder down your throat.

“Is this necessary?” you cough at the strong, minty taste as the tooth powder turns to foam in reaction with saliva.

“If you want my cock and tongue down your throat,” Astarion scrubbed your second set of canines, “then yes.”

The water is dirty brownish-red when you step out of the tub; it’s strange to be without grime after so long, you look at yourself in the mirror. Despite everything, it was still you. 

Astarion draped a fluffy towel over your shoulders, “Tomorrow, we’ll get a tailor and cobbler in here for you.”

“You want to doll me up?” you snort. 

Astarion rolled his eyes, “You need to blend in,” he lightly chastised, “and I have an appearance standard to adhere to.” He huffed, drawing a chuckle from you. “After the tailor and cobbler, we’ll take care of your hair.”

“Hmm,” you nod as he dried off your body. “Whatever you say, starlight.”

End Note:

This started off as a Drabble but then we ended up here with another AU 🤪💀. The way I had to go look at a map of Baldurs Gate and was reminded how shit I am at reading maps lmfao 😭 I have read the Forgotten Realms wiki on so much for this fic. Stay Hydrated.

[jamjuce]

waking up in a cold sweat, scrambling as I try to capture a vision before it leaves me

[strangesmallbard]

NOT SO BERRY CHALLENGE — PLUM GEN 🧠🤷🏻🪩 ↳You’ve always been good at anything you tried. It’s hard to choose a career, so why not try a few? You work as a doctor for much of your life, but as an adult realize that your true dream is to become a professional dancer. You quit your job and join the entertainer career. Basically: you’re an indecisive oddball.