#the lore is so packed and fleshed out that i just
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ive been watching some undertale video essays and i made myself think so hard about the game again.
did you guys know one of the only circumstances of the word "Howdy" in the game is by papyrus. all of the other ones are by the dreemurs. this is right after the alphys date. papyrus calls you and says "HOWDY!". and right after hes incredibly.. odd. towards you.
"IF IT ISNT MY GOOD FRIEND, WHO TRUSTS ME."
"THIS IS PAPYRUS. YOUR ALSO MUTUAL FRIEND."
etc etc.
I know its vaguely obvious that like. ohh flowey was telling him to say that! but. no one but flowey says howdy.
and we already KNOW flowey can do impressions, because of that one echo flower after you kill toriel.
so..???.........
#undertale#flowey#alphys#papyrus#sans#im so insane about this game#being able to learn and theorize new things this long after its release#the lore is so packed and fleshed out that i just#ugh#its so good#this game shaped and shapes me as a person#i love you undertale#and how much GOD DAMN LORE YOU HAVE#oh forgot a tag#frisk
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Hi hi lore question! Do you ever focus on the enemies in the games? Like how the -blins and -fos are sentient and have their own villages and cultures (to my knowledge, as far back as TP but I never had any of the earlier games). How these guys live and serve Ganon even though they should be all rights be separate societies. Is there anything in the game lore or storytelling that shows how this came about or how they interact with each other?
(side note but the TP mini boss in the yeti house seems to be a normal lizalfos that got corrupted and transformed by proximity to the mirror imo)
i haven't focused too much on it but i think it's definitely interesting!! in earlier games, the only enemies who specifically served ganon were the -blins, which were at least visually implied to be somehow related to him because they were all pig monsters like him (this was before the gerudo lore was added.) but there were also some instances of races that are now pretty ubiquitously friendly being hostile--most notably the zora in alttp behave just like menial enemies and will attack you if you come near them, even after you talk to their king. so there is some precedent for these creatures to not be necessarily EVIL so much as they are hostile.
I honestly don't remember very much about tp so i'm gonna use botw/totk as my jumping-off point here just because i'm more confident about it, but in those games the description/general vibe of the monsters sort of shift from "race of nonhuman creatures who are Evil and serve ganon Just Because" to "creatures specifically created by and for ganon, who rely on ganon's power to sustain themselves and are seemingly compelled against their will to carry out ganon's will." because you're right that if left to their own devices, the monsters in these games will generally just kind of. exist in their own little societies. but the second they so much as SEE you, regardless of if you're bothering them, they go into attack mode. the existence of the blood moon and the dialog we get about it suggests to me that these monsters are specifically creations of ganon--the blood moon is supposedly "when ganon's power is at its peak," and it causes "the aimless souls of slain monsters to return to flesh." the fact that ganon can revive these monsters when his power is heightened suggests that 1. they were created by him in the first place and 2. they are under his control in some way. Zelda also makes reference in a few cutscenes to an increased level of monster activity being a sign that the calamity is approaching, implying that ganon is creating more and more monsters as his power grows in preparation for his eventual return. so, at least in botw/totk, I don't think the monsters can really be treated as independant races that just so happen to be hostile, since their existence seems to be contingent upon the existence of ganon and they appear to be constantly under his control to some degree. imo the fact that they form packs that resemble societies is probably just a result of having a lot of downtime in the hundred years link was asleep, and maybe a base instinct that understands strength in numbers.
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was thinking about drawing Ifrit from "Hell has a basement floor" and had some headcanons on his appearance.
on one hand i was thinking to make him tall and burly, built big to store all the mana and power he has, make him built like a volcano.
on the other.... what if and hear me out.... Ifrit.... skinny. tall and gangly, long limbs, underfed, outlines of bones poking out from underneath the skin, sunken eyes for that extra unsettling factor. besides magic does have a cost. maybe it's just your body that needs to be exchanged.
now i thought of the second hc because tall and skinny isn't exactly associated with the kind of brute force Ifrit has but he's still strong even if his lifestyle is gonna put him in an early grave. now imagine when he's finally part of tf 141 they notice that he's not very well in the food and weight department for his height and the amount of energy he spends so... they start feeding him (especially Price and Soap because protect and care hoard/pack)......
i've also been getting into the trope where characters gain weight as a sign of health and living a better life. so yeah tell me what you think
and maybe share your hcs on Ifrits appearance because i don't want to butcher your creation on accident
Okay 1: you have no idea how happy it makes me when I hear ppl want to draw fan art of my stuff :DD, internally I'm like that dog video where the dogs happily tapping his paws lol bc he can't contain his excitement lol. And also yeah, I'm a huge sucker for the trope and your little idea with Price amd Soap tickles my brain.
And 2: man you did some mind reading bc your hcs are actually very close to what I've made up for the lore of the whole au. While I want to overall leave Ifrit's body type ambiguous to give readers some space to imagine themselves in Ifrit's place, Ifrit is 100% underweight with more of a volleyball/basketball player type build, as mages focus on stamina and endurance rather than raw strength bc that can be augmented with magic. Also has stretch marks because their weight fluctuates a lot lol
Okay lore spoilers so if y'all want to find out through the story skip this-
Okay so— magic is increadibly taxing on the body, not just by eating away flesh and creating mage marks as a Mage's power grows, but just by simply existing inside the body magic stresses the body. Because fundamentally magic is toxic to humans, and even mages who have the needed adaptations to utilise magic are no better than our ancestors when they were first learning to stand on two legs.
The best metaphor I have for magic is chemo drugs. They're used to kill a cancer but they also damage healthy cells. Magic, similarly, damages the body by existing inside it, but also is used by mages to heal the damage as soon as it happens. This uses a lot of calories and also why mages have really irregular weights, losing 10kg in a week isn't an uncommon thing.
Someone possessing even half of Ifrit's capabilities would need to eat 3x that of a regular human of the same height and weight. Mages are literally Shaggy from Scooby Doo lol. And that's only to get the bare minimum their body needs, caloric need becomes much bigger if they're active like Ifrit is. So you'll find that many mages, but especially military ones, are underweight and need to regularly get Iv fluids and nutrients to help their body recover from using magic. They also need to eat a lot of highly caloric food, which isn't easy when one of the most common side effects of magic use is puking your guts up.
Most military mages don't reach 30. The average life expectancy is around 25, with active duty (i.e. constant missions and daily magic use) mages lasting on average 3-4 years before their body basically breaks down, but they can last longer depending on how conservatively they use magic.
Now, knowing all that, Ifrit has been actively using strong magic on par with military mages since they were 14-15 years old and while they're not the healthiest, they're healthy as a horse when compared to most mages. The reason behind their continued survival — their mage marks.
#gnome's tea break#gnome correspondence#hell has a basement floor series#hell has a basement floor lore
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Phantom/Aeon waking up from a nightmare while rolling with someone and craves comfort but is too scared to ask for it?
mmm aeon angst.. my favorite👹
1k words of aeon having a reoccurring nightmare and being too nervous to outright ask for comfort.
cw: nightmare of the Pit, detailed summoning process from aeon’s pov, aeon continues to be traumatized, more of my aeon lore and a bit of how i see the pit :)
under the cut if you please<3
Darkness.
Deep, deep darkness.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
It was all he remembered before he felt it.
Cold. He felt extremely cold. His feet planted on something every time he stepped forward. The ground was almost soft, but it made him sick every time his felt his feet sink into it.
He tripped after a few minutes of wandering, looking behind him and down at the ground, only to see a bone.
A sickly feeling bubbled in his throat as he looked a few feet to the right, squinting through the darkness just to seeing bits and pieces of the skeleton that the bone was a part of.
He quickly turned around again and began running, trying to ignore the dizziness in his skull as he felt a sharp, painful tug in his soul.
He ran and ran and ran, eventually falling to his knees and sobbing when the pain in his chest was too much to bear.
Then, he was choking, like all the little oxygen in the Pit had been sucked away. He clawed at his throat, coughing and heaving in the dust of the wasteland around him into his lungs.
He felt the ice cold wind suddenly be evaporated into steam as his skin burned with the heat of a thousand suns, Aeon choking out a cry of agony as he planted a hand on the flesh-like material under him. Sweat escaped his pores, dripping off of his nose as he trembled and tried to heave in the oxygen that was absent from his surroundings.
His eyes rolled back after an excruciating minute and a half, his body going limp and collapsing onto the sickly soft ground.
His consciousness faded. Though, not before he felt a sudden grab of his ankle as he was yanked-
Aeon gasped as he jolted awake, a choked sound of surprise leaving him as he fell off the edge of his bed. He grunted as he hit the cold floor of his room, still tied up in his blankets.
His lilac eyes darted around the room for a moment before he slowly sat up, feeling the fear and adrenaline coursing through his system as he thought about the nightmare he had just woken up from.
Then the tears started.
Aeon didn’t want to go back to the Pit. He didn’t even want to think about it. He had a life with his new pack. He was happy.
So why couldn’t he shake that damn dream?
Aeon slowly rose to his feet after fighting to get free from the blankets. His legs shook as he tried to get his wits about him, holding back his whimpers and cries so only his shadow casted by the moon would hear.
He laid back down in his cold bed, curling up into himself with a shaky sigh as he closed his eyes, only to snap them open again as he was met with the vision of the Pit.
Aeon swallowed harshly and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.
He wanted someone from his pack. Dewdrop, Mountain, Aurora would’ve been just fine. But no.. he wanted Swiss.
Of course, wanting was what got him to that damn wasteland in the first place. Constantly searching, finding, and taking things that he simply wanted in his human life was what got him under Mammon’s control.
That is until Copia saved him.
With that damned summoning ritual.
Aeon shivered as he thought about the air that had been stolen from his lungs, which he learned was courtesy of Cirrus and Cumulus providing their element to Copia’s ritual.
He remembered how he got a preview of Dew’s anger and initial hatred for him when he felt heat that only fire could bring spreading over him. Heat that was prosperous on earth. Fire that Aeon once longed for in the barren wasteland. The sweat that only Rain’s element of water could provide in Limbo. The way his body went stiff like the bark of a tree, Mountain’s element tied with Rain and Dewdrop’s.
Aeon wanted Swiss. Badly.
The multi was the only one who hadn’t participated in Aeon’s trauma. He didn’t help with the ritual that quite literally killed him again before dragging him kicking and screaming Topside.
Swiss was his safety when he could finally open his half-blinded eyes again.
But he didn’t want to be seen as weak.
All the other ghouls got over their summoning. Aurora was over it to the best of Aeon’s knowledge, so why wasn’t Aeon over his own?
Aeon shook his head and got out of bed, walking on wobbly legs out of his room and to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Though, as he walked into the kitchen, he saw Swiss standing there on his phone as the microwave hummed. Aeon froze dead in his tracks, his bloodshot eyes widening as he saw a slightly blurry outline of Swiss.
“Hey, honeybat,” Swiss smiled as he glanced at Aeon, only to do a quick double take. “Woah… are you okay?” Swiss asked, setting his phone down on the island counter and walking over to Aeon. Aeon sighed shakily, knowing he couldn’t lie to Swiss no matter how badly he wanted to.
The smaller ghoul shook his head, keeping his eyes set on Swiss’ chest as to avoid eye contact.
“Nightmare?” Swiss asked, gently cupping Aeon’s jaw and lifting his head so he could look into Aeon’s lilac eyes. Aeon sniffled and nodded. “The same one.” He muttered.
Swiss frowned and pulled Aeon into a hug.
“You floaty?” Swiss asked softly, knowing Aeon sometimes got in his own head and went back to the Pit mentally. “I was for a minute. I’m okay now.” Aeon mumbled, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Swiss’ neck.
Swiss nodded, slipping his clawed fingers into Aeon’s shaggy hair and gently massaging. Swiss began breathing deeply, silently instructing Aeon to follow his actions and breathe with him.
Aeon subconsciously followed his actions, lulling himself into an almost half-asleep state. Swiss kissed at the base of Aeon’s horn.
“You’re here with me, honeybat. You’re warm, you’re breathing just fine. You’re here.” Swiss whispered, squeezing Aeon just the slightest bit more to help ground him in the moment.
Aeon sighed in relief and relaxed even more in Swiss’ hold, finding his eyes slipping shut as Swiss held him in a way that was nothing but loving and protective.
He was there. Aeon was standing there, in the kitchen with Swiss.
He’s okay.
#ghost band#aeon ghoul#the band ghost#ghost the band#phantom ghoul#ravenssilver writes#swiss ghoul#nameless ghouls#swiss x aeon#swiss x phantom#aeon’s a sin of greed#i will die on this hill#raven’s responses
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It sorta bothers me that post-series people are still complaining about 3Below being disconnected from the rest of Tales of Arcadia. For me, it was a refreshing break from the densely-packed fantasy lore and an intriguing peek at the way the universe beyond Arcadia and Earth functions. I liked the character arcs and interpersonal connections. And there was ample room for me to come up with a bunch of my own headcanons, which I love! I absolutely love being able to slot pieces of my own mind and soul into an existing world! I don't like shows where I'm told how every little detail works, that's way too much to remember. Instead I want enough to create an idea of the rules and how things might have gone/might continue to go and fill in whatever else I want.
Also, I think 3Below was SUPPOSED to be a lot more connected before Wizards got cut down. Tons of ideas didn't make it into the limited series run- I remember hearing stuff about Mordred being involved, a lost Krel arc, and I'm sure a lot of lore that would have bound the worlds together more closely. When they mentioned Gaylen's core came from Earth, there was clearly supposed to be more to that, but it got cut out. I'm like 93% sure Gaylen was a being who was part of or similar to the Arcane Order, but was drawn to the cosmos rather than to a part of the Earth. That would indicate that Akiridion tech and magic are compatible because Akiridions' energy-based life was initially magical, but those roots were largely forgotten because of how old a civilization Akiridion is. They've been spacefaring since humans were cavepeople. If the Order existed from the primeval dawn of the world, and Gaylen left not long after that, Akiridion could be millenia ahead of Earth. Or, heck, maybe Earth was the first or only livable world, and Gaylen created the Order to look after it before going off to try to find or create life elsewhere. I always headcanoned that Seklos was more powerful than most Akiridions or even the Royals that came after her, given the fact her core alone was enough to stop Gaylen while in the modern era it requires two royal cores. Maybe she was created by Gaylen to be Akiridion's version of an Arcane Order type being, and she created normal Akiridions, which she then had kids with, diluting her power in the Royals that followed. There's so much ancient history to unpack from just the tidbits we were given.
As for the modern era, there seems to very distinctly be a major intergalactic connection. The drunk ship operator in episode 3 of 3b s1 that the Zerons interrogate talks about ship classifications, which indicates a universal or at least an interplanetary system of ship ratings. We also see interplanetary tourism, and signs that Akiridion is one of the most advanced and influential planets out there.
3Below doesn't need to continue the plot of Trollhunters to be a valid part of Tales of Arcadia. It brought an energy to ToA that was somewhere between Star Trek TNG and Babylon 5, and I love how it expands the weirdness of Arcadia. If it was supposed to be a continuation of Trollhunters, they would have made more Trollhunters. But it's not Trollhunters, it's 3Below. And Wizards isn't Trollhunters either! I honestly think that Camelot, Douxie, and the world of wizards could have been written such that the Trollhunters cast was much less focal, and that if they'd given the show the time it needed and deserved to tell its story, it would have been fleshed-out and fascinating all on its own, with or without the TH gang. Where are the magic users beyond the reach of Camelot? Are there merfolk, sirens, harpies, dryads, more dragons, or other sapient races living on Earth with their own civilizations and magic and cultures? There are so many worlds and so many potential stories out there, on Earth and beyond, in the Tales of Arcadia universe. Arcadia just happens to be the narrative meshing point of them all. And I think that's a really cool way to build a universe.
Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk, here's more Akiridion development as a treat for making it this far.
#Tales of Arcadia#3below tales of arcadia#trollhunters tales of arcadia#wizards tales of arcadia#toa#jim lake jr#toby domzalski#jim lake junior#toa trollhunters#claire nunez#hisirdoux casperan#douxie#toa wizards#trollhunters#toa 3below#3below#krel tarron#aja tarron
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— a heavy burden ୨୧ evan's story
aﾉn — evan n reader lore !!! this kinda adds nothing to noted but i had fun writing it and it was definitely fun to flesh out evan (who will def reappear in different works bc i love him) so hope u guys enjoy !!
warning ; this has themes of neglect & is kinda angsty
evan couldn't remember a time when he wasn't seen as a complete and utter nuisance to be around, diagnosed with many things, and suspected for too many to count. he could barely read or write even though he was fastly approaching seven— not to mention the awful sleeping habits.
his mother hid it from him as much as she could, wanting to ignore all the signs of her son (or, daughter at the time) acting like this. she spent most of her time knitting random things, unable to sleep for almost days on end.
meeting you was a blessing to him, really. stumbling on his shoelaces, unable to tie them due to the inability to focus on something without becoming anxious or tired, almost right onto you. a pretty girl with even prettier hair, he felt embarrassed.
"do you need help with that?" you had asked him before he could sprint away in embarrassment, pointing to his raggedy shoes. shoes that are too small and should've been retired ages ago, not that he knew that. he faintly remembers whispering a yes ma'am (completely informal, he would never do this now) and looking away nervously.
you tying his shoes was the best thing that happened to him. he never told you that, though. he'd rather drop dead and be cursed by the gods than verbalize his feelings for you, much rather sneaking about and handling things for you more subtly.
if anybody asked him why he was so attached to you, he'd probably tell them the story of his ninth birthday. you were only eleven, yet you acted so much better than him, poised and perfect, never afraid of anything. not even the monsters that he saw, the ones you promised that you saw too.
he thought you were lying until another joined your group, a wiry girl that had crutches. he never judged her, though. you were always kind— he wanted to be kind too.
this girl was odd. to say the least. she constantly talked of greek mythology, speaking oddly about certain monsters that evan quickly realized he could see. you never showed fear, though, always reassuring him that it'll be okay or that the girl didn't know.
well, it turns out she did know! he promised that he would never say 'i told you so' but sometimes he still thinks about it.
his ninth birthday was spent running, barely having time to pack or mourn his mother— even if she had forgotten his birthday - or maybe just ignored it again.
hiding in an abandoned building, in the gross muggy air with other homeless people (he wasn't one to judge, but he couldn't help but think that everything was contaminated with a fluid). he was covered in dirt, sweat, and even some blood.
you guys had found out that the girl was a satyr, your 'protector'. evan thought it was stupid, she didn't give him the support she said that she was there for, only apparently dragging him to this stupid mythical camp where he'd be safe.
sitting on some rotten wood, he was convinced that he was going to die. only nine, barely nine.
until your hand brushed his, interlacing your small hand with his even smaller one. your thumb rubbed his hand as he choked up, he felt embarrassed by it— but he never said anything, taking any comfort he could.
evan knew he was a burden, but he couldn't help but selfishly wish that he was your lightest burden.
evan can remember that day like it was yesterday, being twelve now and it being his third year at camp. he wasn't really good at anything. his sword fighting was mediocre at best, he sucked at metal working, and he felt lackluster in the planning department.
he liked planning, though, writing down any idea that he has in a notebook you had made him. he always kept it near him, never wanting people to see this part of him— the part only you knew about.
you were claimed almost immediately, going off into aphrodite's cabin. a goddess of love, beauty, and warfare, it was perfect for you. he felt blinded by your beauty whenever he saw you, never mentioning that, though. the only time he ever felt love was when he was with you, being cradled in your arms while he wept about another birthday. and you were a monster in the battlefield.
aphrodite went against hermes almost constantly. nobody expected aphrodite kids to be good, so they were mainly left up for whoever was lacking members. but he prayed to whoever his father was that you would be on his team, even when it wasn't a serious capture the flag game.
he spent three years being unclaimed, sitting in a dingy hermes bunkbed surrounded by kids who he knew didn't care about him. he ignored everyone, favoring sleep. he remembers a boy with bleached hair and deep brown eyes telling him that he should really try a redbull, but he ignored him for his blankets.
it was the only thing he felt good at. he felt relieved of being a burden to everyone whenever he was asleep, maybe that's why it made sense for him to be claimed by hypnos.
hypnos, god of sleep. of fucking course. he didn't know what to expect, but he didn't know what to think about this. it was like everyone was laughing in his face, of course he's the son of the sleep god!
red hot heat spread across his face when he was claimed, everyone snickering like they already knew or telling him that it's 'not that bad' and 'he's lucky that nobody expects anything from him now', yeah real lucky.
he'd lay curled up in bed, wishing that it was a dream— that it was some sick joke that he'd get claimed in front of everybody, be something for everyone to gawk and giggle at. son of the sleep god, what a joke.
he almost screamed when he felt a jab in his spine, your hand instantly covering his mouth. "ev," you whispered to him, "come with me."
he could never deny you, really. he followed you without hesitation, but that doesn't mean you didn't get lots of complaining.
he was greeted with cookies, his favorite, in the shape of little pillows with marshmallows inside to fluff them up. he was so in shock that he ignored your corny marshmallow pun, inside just throwing his arms around you.
for a second, he felt less like a burden and more like a simple weight you carry.
you were eighteen now, freshly graduated from high school. both you and evan only stayed in camp for summers, deciding that you wanted some type of education.
you had grown up, really, not only physically but also mentally. sometimes you felt like an old woman whenever you talked to evan, who was very much in the trenches of his teen angst (though, he's been like this since you met him).
he was leaning against you now, asleep on your shoulder after luke had forced him to practice his sword fighting with him. if you think back enough, you could imagine little luke, bleached hair, and deep eyebags staring at you from across the dining pavilion.
you shook your head to rid those thoughts, instead looking at evan. he had grown taller, standing at a great 5'7 (he insisted on it being called great). but he still felt like the same eight-year old you tied shoes for, you could still feel the weight of his small head against your chest when you were on the run.
his weight was comforting, and it let you know that you were both alive— not yet meeting the demigod fate that many talked about, either in fear or with that glory hungry look.
you couldn't help but wonder if he knew just how special he was. you knew that he'd scoff and lean away if you told him, still deeply insecure about his place in the world, he'd never be caught dead verbalizing his feelings.
you knew he loved you, you could tell from the way he hugged you. his hugs always bone crushing and never relenting until you pull away. the way he never hesitates with believing or following you, his blind trust in you felt undeserved but he'd disagree.
you knew that he loved you. he would never see you as a burden. but you still wondered if he knew that he wasn't as heavy as he thinks, he was never a burden, nor will he ever be.
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Guess who's got more au lore for Baker-wally!! (I worked hard on this with some friends and mutuals in the Discord server)
Tw: Disturbing themes, cannibalism, implied abuse, violence, demonic-ritual stuff, overall Just... Huge trigger warning! This is a bit dark!
The overall lore, so far:
Wally was unstable from childhood, grew up in a violent home, baking was always a coping mechanism for wally... Whenever wally was sad or angry, he would bake. This always kept wally calm... And happy. Wally found from early childhood that sugar improved his mood immensely... By large amounts. (this lead to later-on sugar pills, to keep himself happy and.. mostly stable)
One day during his childhood, a close friend of wally's passed away. Wally (being completely off his rocker already) ended up eating their corpse in a desperate and crazed attempt to stay close to them... and never forget them. But upon doing that he got a sudden addiction to it, to the taste of the flesh... and began going out late at night to kill innocent folks and would frequently draw little pictures in the victim's blood.
However one evening upon doing this... He accidentally drew some kind of demonic entity symbol (A swirl to be specific 🌀) which summed... Well... And entity. (because it was drawn in blood) which lead wally into the knowledge of the paranormal, etc etc.
Realizing all of this... He tried to convince the entity he'd accidentally summoned, to bring his friend back. But the entity couldn't do so... because wally had eaten and harmed the corpse... Meaning they couldn't be brought back, because they had no physical body to be brought back TO anymore.
Wally was discouraged by this, but the entity decided to give wally an offer... The entity took a quick liking to wally.
So the entity proposed a deal... Keep making sacrifices to them, and the entity would assist wally... Giving wally SOME of their mind and time manipulation abilities to use however he wished. The only downside, is that this mind manipulation could only go so far... And could only erase others memories for so long. (There was a time-limit on how long the memories would stay erased, in a sense.)
Wally of course took the deal without hesitation... Using it to his advantage to get more sacrifices, to keep the power the entity has granted him alive. But there was another issue, the entity only needed the blood-symbols and the life of said victim... They had no use for the victim's body. (And wally could only eat so many victims at a time on his own.)
And so, Wally began struggling to hide the corpses and the police were catching on... As the downside was previously mentioned that wally could only erase people's memories for a certain amount of time, before the memories would be returned. (The Time manipulation didn't help, because The memories were still intact after time ran out for the erased memories. It just made people slightly confused on why the day seemingly reset.)
So wally moved out of town quickly for a fresh start, packed his things and left without a trace... Left his family behind... Left everything behind. Eventually finding himself in a cute neighborhood. Wally quickly made friends with some nice neighbors... Barnaby, Julie, howdy, Eddie, frank, Sally, and poppy.
Unable to keep his cannibalistic murdering urges at bay... Trying to bake to Distract himself from those intrusive thoughts... He realized he could simply get rid of the corpses by baking them into the treats he makes. Not only that... But he could embed his new-found power into his treats by infecting it, in a sense.
So wally worked some magic when greeting his new neighbors formally, offering them cupcakes... That he infected himself using certain sprinkles (doused in the entity's power he'd been given) that would allow complete control over those neighbors minds, COMPLETE control. (the same sprinkles that are stuck in wally's hair, a hidden sign of wally's control over the neighborhood) This created a loophole of sorts when it came to wally's power limitations... The time limit didn't matter anymore, BECAUSE wally's power was now attached INTO their bodies and systems, attaching onto their brains, growing like fungus... Wally had complete manipulation over their minds now and practically the entire neighborhood, no time limit to worry about. This would make things much easier... He could create the PERFECT neighborhood! Killing off neighbors he didn't like, baking them into teats to serve, and his neighbors would be none the wiser! And if he was ever caught... He'd simply erase their minds, and reset the day!
There was one issue though... Poppy didn't take his cupcake offer upon first meeting. This is a huge issue for wally... Because now she's the only one, besides wally, who remembers things the others don't... And is aware of the day-resets. And she has a strong feeling it all has to do with wally. (which she's absolutely correct, but has no proof)
When poppy tries bringing this up to the other neighbors, they have no idea what she's talking about. (like I said... Their minds get erased by wally if he's ever caught.) Poppy knows something isn't right... and wally is aware poppy knows, as she never took his cupcake offer. She's as aware as wally is of the neighborhood resets.
Wally finds this a bit fun though... And strives to make poppy feel as if she's going crazy. He doesn't bother using his short-term mind eraser on her... He finds toying with her is far more amusing.
Now where does home (wally's bakery) come in with all this?
Home was built from the ground up by wally, and brought to life through sacrifices wally made to the entity. In short... Home basically owes wally their life. Wally is the reason home is alive and conscious... Which is a reason why home never goes against wally's word. (other than the fact wally also protects home to an extreme extent.)
In A VERY short sense: Wally's gained complete control over the neighborhood, and all the neighbors expect poppy, through the help and collaboration between him and an entity who'd taken a liking to wally after an accidental summoning.
(This is all over-explained and word vomit, so I apologize for that! If there's anything problematic about this story, I will go back and fix it! <3 I tried to make the lore as close to the overall theme as possible! This may be edited in the future!)
#Long lore rant!#wally baker au#wally baker darling#welcome home baker au#wally darling bakery au#bakery au#welcome home baker wally#baker wally au#wally darling au#welcome home au#wally au#welcome home alternate universe#alternate universe#welcome home puppet show#welcome home#welcome home arg#wally darling my beloved#welcome home wally#wally darling#wally darling welcome home#wally my beloved#wally welcome home#wally wh#wh wally#wh au#welcomehome#welcomehome wally#welcomehome au#welcomehome wally au#welcome home wally darling
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TWITTER SUCKS! > twenty-eight! kiss the girl
synopsis > who knew you could become famous overnight for paying $8 for a single blue checkmark? however, it does come with consequences…what happens when the actual BELIFT Lab comes knocking at your door. all because you simply impersonated your bias.
masterlist | previous | next
vote for my next smau here!!!
a/n: more lore and jieun getting roasted to the ground. she about to become a pack of roasted peanuts💅🏻 (idk don’t ask).
fun fact! i’ve been to HYBE before. well not go in HYBE but I have stood outside HYBE before and I must say it’s really nice.
you have never felt this nervous. your fingers gripping the ends of your sleeveless. you were about to meet ENHYPEN. the people who helped heal you from your horrible breakup. god, you were terrified of messing up.
you walked up the steps and through the revolving door (yes, HYBE has a revolving door. like what is this a hotel??). there was a receptionist so you were about to walk up to them and tell them about it but someone pops out of nowhere.
-
“oh? noona.” jungwon says. you turned around and you gasp. this was yang jungwon in flesh. you nearly yelped in excitement but you should definitely not act like a crazy fan. also they really meant it when they said camera never does idols justice. jungwon looked way more prettier in real life.
“jungwon.” the younger boy smiles.
“heeseung hyung has been so nervous about today. he kept straightening his shirt and making sure his hair was-” he chuckles. “ah, you should just meet him. follow me!”
you glanced at the staff at the reception and jungwon notices.
“don’t worry. you are with us, i’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“yeah but shouldn’t I get a pass? surely, I can’t just enter the building like this.” jungwon pouts.
“okay, maybe I should call the manager down here.” he dials for the manager and enhypen’s manager comes down. there was a slight administrative work but it was settled quickly. though…the manager kinda did have to lie about you were being a new staff but it was for a good cause so who cares.
jungwon opens the door for you and walked in. the others quickly took notice of you and you felt overwhelmed.
“noona, you’re really pretty in real life.” jake says. it earns a smack from sunghoon.
“yah yah, heeseung hyung’s girl. you should know the bro code.” sunghoon says.
“i’m just complimenting her. is it wrong to compliment someone?”
“it’s not wrong, it’s just that everytime you compliment someone. they just take it as you’re flirting with them.” jay says. jake was about to argue but he stops himself before pouting.
ni-ki turns to look at heeseung. “hyung, are you not going to greet her?”
“uh-” he clears his throat. “yeah. hi (name).”
you smiled, “hi heeseung.”
heeseung could feel his heart racing. your smile was pretty and he liked it. he wanted to see it more often.
“heeseung, you have an interview so you need to change and get your makeup done.” jieun enters the room. she realises you were there. she glares at you.
“and who might you be?” jieun gives you a fake smile. one that you could clearly tell was sarcastic and fake.
“she’s a new staff member.” jungwon explains. he points to your ID card.
“her? please don’t me she’s part of the fashion team or makeup team. she can’t even plan her outfit and makeup right.” jieun says. sunoo rolls his eyes.
“i’m sorry but judging by your outfit choice today…” he scans her outfit. “yeah, you look like a hot mess. not stylish at all. aren’t you supposed to be our stylist?”
jieun scoffs, “I am a makeup artist not a fashion designer.”
“your foundation is caked up. better remove it, you look like a ghost.” sunoo sasses. jieun stomps her feet and leaves the room.
“damn, is she always like this?”
“with sunoo mainly.” sunghoon says.
“we don’t waste our energy on her because we find her annoying. sunoo does the roasting most of the times. he enjoys seeing her storm off.” jay shrugs.
“anyways, noona. are you and heeseung hyung going to have a date? a company date?” ni-ki smirks. heeseung shoves the younger boy.
“no. it’s a friendly date.”
oh it’s a friendly date. you dressed up nicely for nothing?
jay pulls heeseung aside.
“noona, how about we reach you how to do ‘drunk-dazed’?” jake suggests.
“in a skirt?” you say. jake flushes.
“uh, okay maybe not ‘drunk-dazed’. what about umm..”
“whoops too bad. sorry! I’ll take (name)’s time now!” heeseung grabs your hands and pulls you away from the boys. he quickly leaves the room with you.
“first step complete!” sunoo clasps.
“are you going to get mae and subin here?” sunghoon asks jay.
“should we? I think (name) noona might get suspicious though.”
“who cares if she gets suspicious. she’s going to literally find out hyung likes her and they both have feelings for each other.” sunghoon says.
“sunghoon hyung is right. we should get mae and subin here. they know her best.” jungwon says.
“alright, if leader nim says so.” jay says.
in a matter of 15-20 minutes later, mae and subin appeared at the practice room.
“where they fucking?” mae says upon entering the room. subin smacks her arm.
“unnie, that’s not nice of you to say that. she and heeseung oppa are just chatting.” subin says.
jay stares right at mae and swore his heart leaps. which was weird because he has never had this happen before. sure, he had crushes but something about mae was getting to him.
“hey bud, you’re drooling.” jake nudges. jay rolls his eyes.
“I am not. anyways, hyung and noona went to the rooftop cafe. it’s famous up there for date spots between staff and idols.”
“oooo is there mint choco in the cafe?” subin asks. sunoo gasps.
“you’re a true sunoo stan.” he goes to hug her. subin freezes. mae snorts.
back to you and heeseung. he hands his card to the cashier and pays for the drinks.
“so…what did you and jay talk about?”
“nothing, he’s just teasing me. that’s all.”
“oh. that’s umm sweet?”
heeseung chuckles, “really?”
“I mean you guys have been friends for 7 years now. you guys practically like siblings. teasing is only a common thing in a friendship.”
“so you, mae and subin tease each other a lot?”
“only recently when-” you paused. were you about to expose your feelings for him? what if you do tell him though…what could happen.
“only when?”
“i started to have a crush on you.” you whispered the last part. heeseung tilts his head.
“i’m sorry, I couldn’t catch the last part.”
“you. I have a crush on you.” you blushed after admitting it. heeseung’s jaw drops.
“order for lee heeseung!” the barista calls out.
“i-” he stood up. “I’ll get our order. one second.”
you mumbling and smacking from somewhere and you spot a familiar sweater that subin loved wearing. that’s when your eyes widened, the other boys and your friends were listening in. mae realises you had seen them so she drags the others away. heeseung places the tray on the table.
“umm, i’m sorry i dumped a whole big bomb on you. I shouldn’t have expose my feelings for you when we quite literally just met in person-”
what you did not expect was for lee heeseung, your bias, your crush and the man you liked, to kiss you. heeseung places a finger under your chin to tilt your head up so he could kiss you easier. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. only a couple of seconds later, heeseung pulls away.
“don’t doubt yourself, I like you as much as you do.” he pecks your forehead.
splash
a gasp was heard after you heard a cup fall to the ground. when you and heeseung turned back to the sound, you realised it was jieun. her fist was clenched, she runs. probably to inform the other staff of you and heeseung. both you and heeseung turned to each other, there was a knowing look that both of you knew.
you had to stop jieun and expose her
series taglist[open]: @lovers-szn @shiguresohmas @moonshoon @byunappetit @strvlveera @rikisly @4lythe @lalalalawon @beansworldsstuff @enhastolemyheart @jaehaki @shinsou-rii @jeanbob @sxftiell @renchai @nyfwyeonjun @invusblog @lhees01 @donghyckl @enhafika @dimplewonie @foxsunoo @run2-gyu @lvrjjun @curly-fr13s @bubblytaetae @raikea10 @ce1ight @luvlee1313 @rizzshimura @soobisrealgfnotfake @stantxtorurmissingout @l0tisflower @jseobsky @lovelickiez @liliansun @kyanmeai @nobodyshallenter @faeryhee @pkjay @mlink64 @luxurystark-jackson @aleombre @yenqa @heestrawberries @soaen @ckline35 @http-gyu @climbingmandevillas @stopeatread @y4wnjunz @aetherlol @whippedforbeomgyu @elisabeth-02
(to be added please send an ask or click here)
#title of this chapter is inspired by Ariel#idk if you remember the frog sang that one song#but yeah#tmi but my favourite Disney is Ariel!!#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen imagine#enhypen angst#enhypen smau#enhypen fluff#TWITTER SUCKS!#TWITTER SUCKS! smau#heeseung#heeseung imagines#heeseung imagine#heeseung angst#heeseung smau#heeseung fluff#lee heeseung#lee heeseung imagines#lee heeseung imagine#lee heeseung angst#lee heeseung smau#lee heeseung fluff#kpop#kpop smau#smau
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Intro to Scouting for Nancy Drew Fans
i love to see Ace's Eagle Scout status come up in fics. Although it was almost a throw-away line, I think it informs Ace's character and fleshes out his backstory well, beyond just knowing knots and navigating the woods. But I see a lot of awkward phrasing, and I see a lot of missed opportunities to bring it up, and it got me wondering if a little primer would be helpful.
Things Ace could say: "I learned this in Boy Scouts." "My troop leader took us out here all the time." "This trail didn't go this way back when I was in Scouts." "Don't worry, they love me here--my eagle project was to clean up this beach." "Don't talk to me about Jared Spriggs-- I'll never forgive him for what he did to my derby car when I was 14."
Eagle Scout is a rank and an honor that he achieved, not a program he was in. The program is Boy Scouts of America (BSA). People familiar with the program will just say Boy Scouts or Scouts. After 100 years of only allowing boys to participate, the program became co-ed in 2019, so it's now called Scouts BSA, not Boy Scouts. Ace would have grown up in the program before then since he turned 18 in 2016.
If Ace started in scouting before he was 11, he would have been in Cub Scouts. At 11, he could move up to the scouting troop. There are ranks in scouting, tied to the number of merit badges you've earned. Eagle Scout is the top rank and must be achieved before the age of 18. It involves a certain number of merit badges, hours of volunteer work, and a main Eagle Scout Service Project that they must plan and execute themselves (with assistance from scout leaders and parents).
I think it highly likely that the Captain was a troop leader or otherwise involved in scouting, especially before his accident. I can see his mom stepping in as well- if I remember right, women could be pack leaders even before 2016.
Although most people work toward Eagle as 16-17 year olds, it's possible to achieve it earlier, especially if you're smart and committed like Ace. So his pot-smoking days could come after he earned Eagle and lost interest in Scouts, or they could coexist. Your call.
Although people assume scouting is about wilderness preparedness, the program's goal is to create well-rounded, responsible citizens. Ace would have the Oath and Law memorized.
Scout Oath
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.
Scout Law
A Scout is: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, Reverent
As you can guess, being Jewish might have been tricky for Ace in a program that's culturally Christian as many 20th century American institutions are. That'd also depend on what his troop was like--was there one troop for the whole town, or maybe his synagogue hosted a troop?
There's a Sea Scouts program. Where I'm from is landlocked so I don't know anything about it, but Horseshoe Bay or a nearby bigger town would definitely have Sea Scouting!
Lastly, here are the current Merit Badge categories: it covers a lot more than knots! Ace often gets into hacking in pre-series fics by hanging out at the library with his mom after school. But what if he was introduced to programming in Scouts? And I'm sure Florence helped him complete many merit badges.
Automotive Maintenance
Backpacking
Bird Study
Camping
Canoeing
Chemistry
Coin Collecting
Cooking
Digital Technology
Engineering
Fire Safety
First Aid
Fly-Fishing
Golf
Indian Lore
Insect Study
Journalism
Law
Mining in Society
Nuclear Science
Photography
Plant Science
Programming
Radio
Safety
Scouting Heritage
Skating (I know we never see him on a skateboard but come on)
Surveying
Sustainability
Swimming (the way Ace is built heavier in top looks like a competitive swimming shape in my experience!)
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Hey I need to yell at you about Pack Play
First I wanna mention doppelgänger twice. I like him. He's basically the same as canon but I like him. Anyway,
Once again your world building shines. Mating houses, what some wolves think of chew toys, the logistics of a rut room—love it love it love it
I know these two are probably a shade less platonic than a different pack would be, but I LOVE that the grooming and shared cycles ARE considered platonic.
"Maybe, but you're my pack, And I take care of you." Delicious
The chuffing, dabi showing his stomach, shig nipping his throat, dabi WAITING FOR PERMISSION TO KEEP USING THE TOY!!! All the inhuman cues that show Dabi's submission are making me insane
And thinking about it from Shigs perspective??? The pretty, prickly alpha that probably challenged him at their first meeting now wants to be used so badly that he fucking goes limp???? And even better, it's because he trusts him?? 🥴🥴🥴
And don't get me wrong I love bitching, but this flavor of. Fuck idk. Domestic submission? Service kink? Wolves submitting to their leader no matter their dynamic, nearly got me skipping into work this morning
I'm curious about their biology in this too. Shig has a secondary sex, but dabi doesn't? Does that mean alphas are usually male and omegas female? Do pack dynamics change that, like could an omega be the alpha of a pack?
FEELING LIKE SHIG MATED HIM WITH THE CHEW TOY??????!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEE I AM SCREAMING LIKE A TEA KETTLE. IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE THAT THEY'D GET LIKE A HORMONE RUSH FROM THE SCENT OF BLOOD WHILE FUCKING!!!
Thank you to whoever commissioned this, and of course to you tanco!!!
ehehehe thank you for yelling!
I know I talk about fics re-writing my brain chemistry, but god damn did this one fucking do that too! I had such a good time exploring a different interpretation of werewolf lore!
Shig was definitely losing it to his instincts to see Dabi displaying such perfect submission when, up to this point, he'd barely acknowledged him as his pack, let alone his alpha. It definitely made everything a little less platonic on his end right from the jump!
Yeessss, I really like this concept of pack dynamics for a world where secondary sexes aren't really a thing anymore. Like this is a world where ABO dynamics existed a very long time ago, but they were bred out of the population because they weren't as strong as just having synced cycles and pack-mating (especially for turned packs, which usually outnumber born packs). If there were male omegas/female alphas, they wouldn't exist in this day and age. And the holdovers of ABO traits are very mild, like with Shig who can just continue having a knot through his whole cycle, it's not that much of a difference to a normal male wolf like Dabi (even his thought that Shig's cycle would last longer, ended up being an incorrect assumption because they ended at the same time). On the other side, female wolves who have traces of Omega still in them might produce more slick that smells more strongly, but that's about it. It's not a notable difference and in a few more generations, these traits will likely be eradicated completely because they don't have a real biological/evolutionary advantage in modern society. These holdovers are entirely biological, and don't impact pack dynamics! Wolves of any sex or gender can be alphas, but there aren't pack omegas or betas, "alpha" now just refers to the leader of the group, and no one identifies as having a secondary sex in wolf society.
The psychosexual impact of having that smell and the fake flesh in their mouths nearly made the two of them feral, and we love that for them!! You bet your ass that the next time their cycle hits, they're going to be out there taking chomps out of each other's throats until their scents are so tangled that they'll give any other wolf/pret a headache if they are within a five-mile radius of them.
Thank you so much for commenting!
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Pack Kortac - Werewolf! König Headcanons
Tags: monster au, werewolves, gore, body horror, general lore
-He wasn't born a wolf, but bitten. A status held with high regard amongst the lycans. Those bitten rarely have the fortitude to survive their first change. Their bodies too weak and unfamiliar with the shift, minds too easily lost. To change shape is a powerful thing…not all the wolves in the forest were born that way.
-The young boy had always found solace in the woods. No one to look at him. No expectations for him talk. He could simply exist here. In the safe and quiet. At least he had thought. Teenage König had been bitten and abandoned in those very woods. Terrified. He stumbled home, wrapping the raw wound with trembling hands and refusing to tell his grandmother. Who would believe him? That a hulking beast on hind legs had sank its teeth into him?
-Scrawny, nervous König, who drug himself back out into the same woods when the nausea and pain became to much. Who screamed and cried as his bones began to bend and break. Clawed viciously at human flesh that burned like acid. König who awoke and looked to the sky with new eyes. To shimmering stars and the scents of prey animals trembling in the underbrush.
-König had hid since childhood. Had trained himself to be small and still when his teachers and grandmother barked at him for his squirming and clumsiness. Nothing he did seemed right. But here? Everything was right.
-He didn't have to hide here. Under the trees he could run and howl, delight in the crunch of bones between his teeth. The wind in his fur. This. This is what he was built for. He grew taller, became bulkier. Signed himself away to the military with a white lie the very next morning. Never to look back on the life he had before.
-Bitten wolves, despite popular belief, are less instinctually motivated. Unlike born wolves, who's instincts are firmly integrated, Bitten wolves can maintain a degree of seperation. As a human their needs for bonds are less intense. Bitten's are also less temperamental , having been socialized traditionally as human.
-König, behaves with a savage brutality in and out of the shift. Simply because he is just like that. Not because of instinctual forces outside of his control. He only needed the shift to truly find himself.
-König wore the hood at first to cover the scars on his face, the gap in his cheek that revealed a small glimpse of stained teeth. His first change had been rough, fangs and jaw crunching and tearing through soft human flesh. His scars had been self inflicted, harsh lines from where he had frantically torn at burning flesh too prematurely to reveal the wolf underneath. These scars, along with a significant line along his spine, are what remain as evidence of this change.
-While being Bitten is largely seen as a significant sign of strength there are some disadvantages. While shifts became easier, they will never be as smooth as a born wolf.
-While his body has adjusted quite a bit, but he still needs accommodations to dull his senses while human, such as earplugs.
-König revels in the change. Even without the scars his veil had become a necessity on the field. Even as he got older, controlling his shifts were tedious. He trembles with pure energy in the heat of the fray. His teeth ache, pulling and sharpening. Grey-blue eyes shifting into something icey and glowing. Claws tear through leather gloves. The veil helped to avoid questions from his human teammates.
-Overtime this became too tedious. König strikes me as the intro-virtuous type. Having big “I don't want to do it but I'm the only motherfucker here, so I guess I'll handle it” energy. He absolutely maneuvered himself into a position of leadership out of sheer annoyance this way.
-König had long convinced himself that having a pack is not suited for him. He lacks the know how. Feeling lost without the more obvious instincts to guide him into finding pack mates. Deep down it eats at him.
-He buries it though, building Kortac, and recruiting fellow bloodthirsty monsters that resemble a pack. It lacks true bonds. But it gave König the space to let his wolf run. He resolves that's all he needs for now. Addicted to the rush of blood under his nails and flesh in his teeth.
Descriptions of König inspired by floweryanarchy's piece: x
#a little something to compliment Price's piece#these are in the same universe#but I intend on keeping the 141 and kortac seperate#unless I want them to try to kill eachother aha#monster au#pack kortac#konig cod#konig mw2#werewolf!konig#könig cod#könig mw2
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signalis lore spoilers
people keep talking about the penrose 512 crashing on Leng, and i don't think people are considering the fact that... it's not possible.
normally possible, anyways.
launched from an orbital station at high speed, the Penrose ship design was never designed to carry enough fuel to carry out full accelerations, only enough to maneuver the craft once launched
the broadcast transmission at 1500 cycles explicitly mentions that by the time 1500 cycles have passed (~4 earth years), they are sitting around the edge of the Oort cloud, the massive debris field that surrounds every solar system
going roughly by the anatomy of our solar system, that means they passed leng (the farthest out labled planetoid) maybe as far as a year back from cycle 1500.
and then they keep going for at least around ~3900 odd cycles out into space (bringing the total flight time to ~5400 cycles).
that's about 8-9 years of continued travel at their approximate velocity before Ariane is put in cryo, and we have no idea how much longer Elster is alive for after that.
unless they managed to pull off some crazy mid-space orbital manuever, they would never have had the fuel to reverse their velocity and head back in the direction of the solar system, and there is never any mention of an attempt (or even desire to) return to the solar system.
we don't know if the Penrose crashes out there or just keeps flying through space, but the Penrose ever being anywhere close to Leng is.... physically impossible, barring special exception.
this also throws a serious wrench in the theory that all LSTR units are based on a decommissioned Elster (LSTR 512). The Eusan government is willing to do a lot of things, but flying a 30 odd year round trip to go fetch Elster (who they know is dead and having their brain decompose) is WILD.
yes, the original LSTR neural pattern was lost with the destruction of the central archives on Vineta. yes, the LSTR they salvaged the currently used pattern from was part of the Penrose program.
but it was probably from an LSTR unit that never launched or was part of an orbital crew working on the Penrose program ships (someone has to build them, load them and launch them, right?).
Our Elster was too long gone, and the sealed document that talks about the loss of the Vinetan archives was... packed into the luggage of the Penrose 512, before any of the events of our story take place.
so... how *does* the Penrose crash on Leng, of all places? why is it right outside of the Sierpinski facility, which Elster and Ariane were nearly assigned to all those years ago? why does Elster have to pass through the black gate to get into Sierpinski?
Ariane's desperation and bioresonance is clearly a part of it, but teleporting a ship hundreds of thousands of miles... by yourself? Elster coming back to life, hundreds of times during the time loop? Where are we even supposed to start with the fact that Ariane has clearly left the ship at the start of the game, and is only in the red-wastes version of the Penrose?
one of Falke's crayon pages talks about meeting Ariane in the red wastes beyond the gate. it's unclear when this took place, and it probably has something to do with the bioresonance tying Falke and Elster's memories together, but i can't help but think that when Falke met the Red Eye, she also met Ariane, reaching out desperately across space.
regardless, something genuinely eldritch is happening, and it's not just the flesh below Leng that's proof of something *else* going on.
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Welp. I did it again [RC9GN Infection AU]
The never-ending brainrot on this stupid show is going to be the end of me. Honestly, this is just me being hyperfixated on post-apoc universes and the fact that I will make things dark on a whim because I just felt like it (I'm sure I'm not the first to make an rc9gn infection au, so in the off chance my idea sounds like someone else's- i apologize)
Thoughts on Infection Lore
Honestly, to make this fully work- it's essentially a more 'progressed' version of stanks; someone who becomes corrupted by the Sorcerer now suddenly becomes a mindless monster (if you are susceptible enough, not everyone will remain stuck as one- don't question this right now)
My personal take is this; not everyone who's been stanked will be infected, but certain people will be placed at risk due to the following:
~ people who have less obvious ways to be destanked are placed at risk
(long author's version: those who have 'unfinished business' and are still dealing with the inner turmoil of whatever stanked them in the first place will be infected, remaining stuck as a monster for longer periods of time.)
~ after a certain amount of days have passed by (if the person hasn't been destanked by then), they will remain permanently stuck as the monster; the way i see it is the sorcerer's a powerful foe and increased the power in his stanks which makes it an even bigger problem when no one knows what caused the transformation - i feel more than it being fueled by fear, it's a multitude of different things at once - and essentially, it corrupts the individual
~ deterioration is an unwelcome side effect (some people only have the 'essence' of the stank, so to speak, in them- and it causes deterioration to the body, consuming the negative thoughts before it triggers the stanking)
~ the mind becomes a lot more animalistic in nature and once it reaches a certain point, there is no going back- destanking won't work, and the individual is simply stuck as a rampaging monster
(author's cut: i need to flesh this out bc this will follow a slightly different route than what i've done before when it comes to the infection au; one thing to note though is things like being a carrier or having immunity do still exist-)
Character Thoughts
I'm going to do this in-reverse; starting with the villains - McFist and Viceroy - at this point, the duo aren't working for the Sorcerer anymore; if anything, they are on their own- attempting to seek refuge within the McFist Industries building, but they can hole up there for so long. McFist has ceased trying to get revenge on the Ninja completely ceased, and Viceroy is simply attempting to figure out the best course of action on keeping both of them from being attacked- (I definitely see them becoming important somehow, but for now this is what I'm working with) [small author's note: Bash and Marci are there, i'm not as mean as to separate them... yet)
The Sorcerer's role in this is ridiculously major and will come into play as the story progresses- (not entirely how just yet, but honestly i might have to retcon the information from season 2 for this to work, just bear with me here)
Not all of the high school students will be important because genuinely I do not have the attention span- and this will be focusing on a specific group/party, not everyone or I would go insane (as if I don't already have other ideas to flesh out) [author's cut: some will be stanked, the rest will be there for different reasons]
Now, to cover the main group-
For starters, we have our girls - Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa - who will be something of a power trio; Debbie definitely is something of a pack leader- she takes charge, and Heidi backs her up in things but of course that leaves Theresa as moral support (though this girl deserves to have her moment to shine; however, in order to keep things on the down low for now, well, this pup ain't talking /lh)
I plan on keeping Heidi, Debbie, and Theresa as the first group- they're not going to be meeting with the rest of the party until things start escalating in intensity; again, no spoilers- this idea for now, is a WIP and I just want to see who might be interested
Then of course, we have the boys - Randy, Howard, and Julian; the way I see it this takes place after a stank incident gone wrong, because apparently the person doesn't transform back (and there's something off, something not-human- like they're not present anymore)
Howard forces Randy to run, knowing there's nothing that can be done- (more people become prone to the Sorcerer's doing- corrupting those unfortunate enough to get too close); though things are going to get so, so much worse. This part isn't necessarily spoilers but I do see one particular stank incident getting worse, and well- to not spoil too much again, someone becomes hurt and the duo are forced into hiding. Julian enters the picture, and you have this trio now facing a threat none of them thought was possible (stanks are one thing, not understanding why they still won't turn back is an entirely different story)
Randy becomes desperate to fix things- but he doesn't want to hurt anyone; surely, there has to be a way to return everything back to normal [author's cut: i have so many plans for this boy, and i do intend to make things difficult]
As for Howard, he learns to assume a sort-of second-in-command status (but i'm going to cause tension, and it's going to be a thing until i kick in new elements in)
Julian, though, my sweet summer child- is weirdly thriving in this environment (but he is also going through it a little- this still has post-apoc elements keep that in mind)
With Randy and the Nomicon, however, hoo boy do I have plans I can't share just yet- however, I will say complications arise esp. considering there's more going on (communications may be cut, is all i'm saying; details still in the works)
Relationship Thoughts
So far, everyone will remain strictly platonic but- I do plan on creating a team-like dynamic between the main six;
~ Randy and Julian do become closer- I honestly feel there was a lot of robbed potential in their relationship esp. following the s2 finale
(author's cut: Julian as part of the informed team of the Ninja would have been such a neat element. Also, the fact he was in the Land of Shadows, but I'm getting sidetracked- seriously, there's going to be an expanded upon relationship between Randy and Julian; also sidetracked comment: Randy and Howard should have stayed members of Der Monster Klub, def not because it parallels D&D no-)
~ I also want Randy and Debbie to become closer because hoo boy, there is again- a lot of potential with them. There's something specific I'm aiming for here and I can only hope I do it correctly-
(another small author's cut: Debbie will need to accept exposing the Ninja is not something that can be her only end goal, there's something much bigger happening; something she couldn't even fathom- but of course, when have i ever made things easy for the main cast /lh)
This post is getting insanely long, but honestly let's just wrap things up with the usual ending;
Under-the-Cut Details
~ this little bit of information is what has me brainrotting over an au literally no one asked for: permanent stanks is literally like dealing with a wild animal; having to make a tough decision due to this is what i'm aiming for here. good luck
~ this is a mature horror-based genre, do not go into this thinking it'll be lighthearted because this is the exact opposite
~ i don't see the nine realms being a large part of the au, and if you do want to see more of this- i'd just recommend checking out the fanon plans i have for the would've-been season three and beyond-
~ i'm sure some of you will be curious on how the infection/"virus" will affect Randy and the answer to that, well, is you'll just have to wait and find out- no one is going to be having a good time and that does include him, have fun
~ in regard to the tengu- honestly, you will see this being a thing- but how? you'll just have to wait and see
(author's cut: this is currently a Work in Progress (WIP); genuinely this will be a darker outlook on the series as a whole, given this is literally post-apoc and covers what could easily be dark magic, but also- intense feelings of paranoia, spiraling negative emotions, and more...
there's going to be a lot happening, but for now this is all i can provide- the non-spoilers edition)
To wrap up some of the things again,
Group 1 - Debbie, Theresa, and Heidi (currently separated from the boys - decided to try and take shelter at the high school, planned reunion in later arcs)
Group 2 - Randy, Howard, and Julian (presumed missing - were also separated from the others; managed to escape during a dangerous stank attack)
Group 3 - Viceroy, McFist, Marci, and Bash (currently seeking refuge at McFist Industries; Viceroy has been attempting to ward off any threats using his inventions but for how long will this work?)
#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja#rc9gn#rc9gn au#randy cunningham#howard weinerman#rc9gn julian#debbie kang#theresa fowler#heidi weinerman#willem viceroy#rc9gn viceroy#hannibal mcfist#rc9gn mcfist#alternate universe#alternate reality#infection au#virus au#stank infection au#this au seriously needs a proper title#things will go so wrong before they get better#rc9gn nomicon#ninja nomicon#these characters do not get to have a nice time#good luck lol
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What if the reader and April run away together abroad, where Sangwook has no business or connections. What will be the boys' reaction?
Oh boy im gonna go on a bit of a long ramble ^^
Okay, so regardless of whatever the situation is. Whether the reader and April aren't dating but dating the Sangwook brothers, or just barely know Hyun and Marco based on the company information. They will not take you packing up and dropping off the face of the earth with each other too kindly..
In the end, it really doesn't matter, they will be coming after you.
So let's say in this particular scenario (since ngl I haven't properly fleshed out the story yet and I've been mostly writing hypothetical scenarios with them- so bare with me), you and April are just good friends.
Just a disclaimer, I'm gonna go through a long tangent of extra lore or whatnot. If you just wanna skip it- ignore the highlighted part.
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Extra explanation of context
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Okay, so running away! The two of you decided to change your names and identites and move somewhere far away where they can't reach you. On purpose, you decide to move to a rural town in Canada where no one knows who you are. It's a small country area, so there's little to no chance that some buisness partner, private investagator, or Hyun and Marco themselves could ever guess where the two of you might be. I mean, Canada, out of all places - who would've guessed that?
It would be peaceful for at least a year or two before they find you. It's not like you could keep up the double life for that long..
So how would they react?
Marco would feel absolutely stupid upon realising that you had managed to run away without him knowing. At first, he would be in doubt. You love him, you wouldn't run away from him, you'll come back eventually. But after days of trying to contact you, he's come to the conclusion that you're not coming back. Espically once he noticed he couldn't track you anymore on the GPS device.
You're just misguided..Angry. Confused. You were just throwing a tantrum. But you had every right. He did go too far saying those things about you.. His anger got to the best of him that time.. It was your typical lovers quarrel. It happens! He'll resolve this. He'll get you back to where you belong.
Marco is delusional, hopeful, but also very anxious. Every passing hour he couldn't find you, he would laugh hysterically alone in his office out of pure rage. Fuckk, you were really starting to get on his nerves. Tearing down the streets and looking for answers, he would do his best to get any tip on where you might've gone. He tried searching your apartment, but upon arrival, it was purely empty. Every day, he would go to bars, restaurants, libaries, the places you loved going to. Asking people and staff left and right if they ever saw you. He even went to his brother, ranting about how impulsive you were for just running away.
He would be worried sick, but also resentful towards you. Especially when he figured out that you had run off with that 'friend' of yours. After everything he's done for you.. You selfishly decided to run off with another man because the two of you had a fight. There was definelty were going to be a nice little 'chat' when he brings you back home. Hiring private investagators, Marco would make sure to pay them a hefty sum for you. I mean, after all, you're worth so much to him.. Even if you tick him off.
See! He loves you so much! You should be grateful for how much he cares about you.
While hiring at least more than 5 private investagators to manhunt you, Marco would be driving all over the country - trying to find you. When the second year hit ever since your disappearance, Marco would've been in shambles. Often clawing at his hair while he tries to keep calm as his mind races away. You still love him, right? You didn't run off to be with that pest, right? God, he wasn't touching you all over, trying to replace him- right? So when he finally gets the tip off of your location, there's no second guess that he's buying a plane ticket to where you are on the same day.
Man, he can't wait to finally have you home! Maybe when things have settled down, perhaps the two of you could about the future. Especially about how he was going to take care of you from now on. Money, job, future? You won't worry about those anymore. Not when no one knows who you are anymore, not when you are so lost and helpless without him, and not when no one wants to hire you for the terrible crimes and deeds you've done..
Hyun, on the other hand, might've taken it a lot worse than Marco.. There are no words to describe how absolutely pissed he was once he found out April had disappeared from his life..AGAIN. After he claimed he wanted to make ammends for the past. What a filthy lying rat. Immediately, Hyun would be contacting every connection, every source, every goddamn bounty hunter to find this fucker. Hell, he even did a bit of research himself to find out where he could be.
Like the cockroach April could be at times, he was smart enough not to go to a highly populated area of people. Okay, so he's somewhere rural, probably. Hyun would mostly check back on the feedback from all of the hidden cameras he placed around April's apartment. Okay, he packed a suitcase while carrying a passport. So he's out of the country. Every little bit of information he could find about his precious employee's whereabouts, he told the investagators. He wanted to find him quick. He could not go through another situation like before.. He could not lose him again. It was out of pure fate April stumbled back into his life after 3 years. He won't let it be like that again.
So when at least the second year mark had hit eversince April had gone missing. Hyun had lost his shit. He began to take his anger out behind closed doors. Finding some poor, unfortunate person who happened to look good enough for him to abuse whenever he needed an outlet to let his frustration out. Destroying things out of pure wrath inside his office - throwing and kicking whatever was in front of him out of the pure helplessness he felt. He was always quick to find and solve issues, so effective and calculative to control anything he wanted.. But..He had lost April. The only person who knew about him. The only one that bothered to make him feel valued.. It was only a few months left until it would become the third year. It was just like before. It was just like university..
He would spend hours trying so hard to track his whereabouts. Demandings answers from the people he hired. Where the fuck is he? It's not so hard to find some short dipshit with pink hair and glasses is it?! Then again..Even he couldn't find him himself.
But when that time came. When April had made that slipup, he revealed his location and identity. Hyun was grinning ear to ear. Finally, it was over. This little game of manhunt was fucking over. All the anger, the worries, the tears he spent over him- was all worth it. He was more than happy to send a bunch of men over to that rural small area. Requesting that he bring him and whoever was with him back alive. He even made sure to tip them a large amount out of genuine thanks.
Once his sweet old nerd is back into his life, he's going to make a few changes. April will learn to accept it. It's for the better, after all. Plus, it's not like he has a say in it. Not when he'll be nice and cozy with a snug eletric collar around his neck.
.
.
.
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#thank you so much for asking this!#it was fun answering it!#sorry if it was a bit rusty or scrambled#my writing is a bit iffy rn lol#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere prompt#yandere headcanons#yandere oc#yandere ceo#yandere ocs#sangwook#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc x oc darling#yandere oc x oc#April sunset#Hyun Sangwook#Marco Sangwook#Marco
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Hey! I absolutely love your stories, and right now I'm super excited to see how TBBW will continue ☺️. I'm really curious how you came up/what inspired you to write everything about the werewolf lore and Klaus' dad being alive and quite amazing if I say so myself 🥰.
Thanks so much! And oh boy, is this a question. So, what did inspire me to write the werewolf lore and Klaus' father into the story?
Well.
That comes down to the very fundamental reason why anyone chooses to write fanfiction. I watched TVD up to s5, then I watched TO up to s3 and you know what I said to myself?
That's fucking stupid.
And then I re-wrote canon my own way out of a mix of rage and spite. Here's how:
First off - the werewolves in the tvd universe are so under-developed and shallow characterisations it wants to make me SCREAM. Like, at least for vampires, we have sire bonds and the intimacy of blood sharing, the implications that powerful vampires controlling big cities, little coffee shops with UV protected windows, the differences between daywalkers and nightwalkers - an idea of an actual SOCIETY out there. For werewolves? There's none of that. The ability to turn into a wolf on a full moon is perceived as a 'curse' by vampires and witches alike, their bite kills vampires and they've been hunted to almost extinction, and that's it. That's all we're given. There's some development in TO to do with packs and how they work, but again, very shallow writing. And again, TO, so it was centred around Hayley's werewolf journey not fucking, oh, I don't know maybe KLAUS MIKAELSON WHO IS PART WEREWOLF, THE ORIGINAL HYBRID???? So yeah. Not sure it even counts at this point.
[deeply inhales]
Sorry, it all makes me very angry thinking about it, as you can certainly tell. See, all that I can probably forgive because it is called The Vampire Diaries and not The Werewolf Diaries - makes sense they didn't spend as much time fleshing out werewolf culture and customs, the details of the species. But then. THEN they had to go bringing Klaus' biological father back from the dead - a man he never knew but probably longed to have known after his death, that little boy inside who always wanted a real father not an abusive shitbag - and then. They. Fucking. Killed him off.
Not only that but KLAUS killed him off.
Add the fact Klaroline was meant to be endgame, ENDGAME I SAY, thus, I was fuelled by such fury and spite I had to rewrite the entirety of tvd's s3-s4 because that, my friends, was the last straw and I could not live in a world where something SO stupid was left unchallenged.
So. It all began with Lycaon, really.
In TO, Ansel is the name of Klaus' father. However, I always thought it would be more interesting if his father looked more like Klaus (Ansel's actor, Lloyd Owen, doesn't look much different from Mikael, brown hair, chiselled chin, etc), for various reasons, mainly being it would be amazing to explore Klaus growing up thinking he looked like the sister that died before he was born, not knowing what his true father looked like and having no other reference since he didn't share Mikael's features. It's like, another layer of detail to him coming to terms with being a bastard. So, if I did bring in Klaus' father in with the name Ansel, readers would be forever associating the character with that physical appearance, which I didn't want. Knowing that, I decided to completely rewrite the entire character from scratch.
'Lycaon' is actually of greek origin - I did look at norse names, but none of them spoke to me, not like this one did. Lycaon just rolls of the tongue so beautifully, and it means 'king of wolves', which was rather fitting I thought. Makes Klaus a little lost prince almost, a reference to a favourite klaroline fic of mine, which expands beautifully on the werewolf lore: The Lost Prince and The Eternal Queen. The people of Scandinavia were travellers and conquerers too, famous for their navy, and with the Greek's influence in Europe, I didn't think it was too outlandish for a greek name to pop up. Like it's improbable, but lets suspend our disbelief a little on that front.
I can't quite remember what inspired Lycaon as a whole (it's been like, 3 years lol). I know I wrote that first chapter of The Little Wolf more as a way to get an idea out of my head. It wasn't about the klaroline then or any of tbbw's plot - even the rest of the little wolf's plot - which I came up with much later. It was just that scene, little Niklaus running through the woods and finding a wolf within them that felt oddly like home.
(And somehow, that one scene bloomed into what's probably going to become a 800k megafic, but isn't that how it always is, with writing?)
Going onto the deeper details of the werewolf lore... that's a mash up of everything I love about werewolves, honestly. There's inspiration drawn from other shows, of course, like Teen Wolf for example and even Twilight much to my shame (those books/movies are questionable okay but the werewolves looked BADASS) as well as just general myth and legend. There was some things I knew I didn't want to do, like make the wolf mates fated by destiny, something i've seen a lot in kc fics. That removes the romance for me, so in tbbw a wolf mate isn't a soulmate by supernatural force... they're a soulmate of choice. A mate is the wolf's first love, and the man's last - both sides have to fall in love, as one (which I think is much more poetic, no?). Which is why you have examples of Lycaon falling in love with Esther, while his wolf didn't - she wasn't his mate. I've also decided I'm going to take out the beta/omega werewolf dynamics in the edit I'm doing at the minute - originally I tried combining the fantasy werewolf pack dynamics (alpha, beta, omega) with real life wolf dynamics (wolf packs are actually families, an alpha pair being the parents of the other wolves). This is because the found family trope has me at the throat and the idea of werewolf packs being more like families? It's just such a romantic idea and I love it. So I'm changing that.
I'm always changing the lore, really. Always adding new things in. Currently, I'm rewriting the little wolf and adding some new scenes in, expanding on an idea I've had for a while and implimented elsewhere - that lycanthropy isn't a curse. It's like a....defence mechanism. It's not triggered because you killed someone - that's just a coincidence that can happen, vampire propaganda (cough, cough - Milkael's propaganda) that has spiralled out of proportion. Werewolves believe it too, because most packs and bloodlines have been decimated so catastrophically, many traditions and inherent knowledge has been lost. It's more like a trauma response? So if someone with the werewolf gene goes through something that ignites the fight or flight instinct, the wolf wakes and choosing fight. Because of course - this is werewolves we're talking about. It's more born of the idea that werewolves evolved (which I think is 100% more badass, like imagine prehistoric dire wolf werewolves people COME ON) rather than were a result of spell from some witch forgotten long ago.
But back centuries ago, before Mikael's blood feud, before the purge of werewolves, werewolf packs had this ritual? A rite of passage almost, a coming of age, that does the same thing - wakes the wolf. It's just been lost through the generations of death, destruction and fear. Or that's my headcanon of it, and you'll get a glimpse of the ritual in the little wolf, something that's happening in the background of a scene to expand on the lore.
There's so MUCH more to say about the werewolf lore. Maybe I'll reblog this and share more at a later time but this is long as it is. The werewolf lore is definitely a lot. Ah, the sacrifices I make for world building.
#klaroline#klaus x caroline#fanfiction#klaroline fanfiction#the big bad wolf#tbbw#morningstar writes#caroline forbes#klaus mikaelson#anon ask#ask me for a directors cut and i will provide#i ranted a little there anon I apologise#the world of tbbw is just a LOT lets just leave it at that
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"shameful company" — astarion
also on ao3. pt. 4 of series (don't) lose your head
pairing : astarion/oc (m!durge)
word count : 7.3k
content : mentions of canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, gratuitous fluff, wound care, applying stitches, bathing/washing, (astarion's) trauma and introspection, healing and establishing boundaries, intimacy and touch starvation, falling in love, named tav/durge with lore
The suite above the inn was strangely quiet compared to the floor below. Boisterous laughter and shouting from drunkards carried up the stairs and yet none dared to actually walk up there. Word of the murder that occurred in the spare room spread like wildfire throughout the city, and understandably, the average tavern-goer tried to avoid anything that would find themselves at the business end of a dagger.
Especially when there’s now a fresh trail of blood leading up to those double doors for the second week in a row.
As for inside the suite, it certainly looked like another altercation had occurred. Sanguine pools stained the quaint setup of rugs and pillows in the middle pit, which was also now strewn about. The floor was littered with bandages, potions, and some rather crude medical instruments spilling out of an adventurer’s pack — the owner of which sat near the hearth, a sheen of sweat covering his furrowed brow as he worked diligently. The barkeep could clean up the mess, for all he cared. He’s far too occupied with tending to his lover’s wounds to worry about anything else.
The two exchange no words, unless you count the tiefling’s quiet gasp and muffled prayer upon bearing witness to the grisly wound marring the other man’s flesh.
Though he delighted in a bit of goriness, the sight of his already low supply of blood pooling out of his own leg was admittedly something Astarion did not plan on happening today. Or ever, preferably.
For now, he sits feeling rather exposed, his right leg bent at the knee and breeches pulled down to his ankles as Niraeniel carefully dabs at the frightful-looking gash tearing through the flesh of his thigh with a damp cloth. Astarion grits his teeth, hissing through the burn of vinegar being doused onto the nerve endings of his skin. He counts himself lucky that the tonic Nir just about poured down his throat earlier had blunted the worst of the pain, but he could still feel the deep chill seeping into the meat of his thigh. It was like a ravine of ache and dull agony.
Astarion lets out an exhale of relief upon noticing the bleeding has ceased for the most part, silently thankful that the injury wasn’t nearly as severe as he thought. Astarion leans back against the wall, watching idly as Niraeniel cleans the wound, though not exactly at him — his eyes can’t seem to focus on anything in particular, feeling somewhat faint from how much blood he’s lost.
Nir pulls away briefly to reach for his suturing supplies, and for a moment Astarion isn’t so confident in his decision to let the tiefling anywhere near him with a needle and thread. He’d never even mentioned having any medical skill until today, simply leaving the duty to Shadowheart just like everyone else in their rag-tag group.
The vampire stops Niraeniel short when he reaches for his leg, placing his hand over the cautious grip bracing his thigh.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Astarion says, words nearly a whisper from the strained sound of his voice.
Niraeniel shakes his head in response, swatting his hand away. “Would you rather I left you there to bleed out?”
“I’ve done the same to you before, haven’t I?”
“Yes, well, you make it quite difficult to stay mad at you.”
Astarion huffs, but still relents, relaxing back into the wall with his head turned away. Niraeniel shifts closer to him once more, tapping his knee softly to get his attention. “Could you tilt your leg a bit, ‘Star?”
The vampire glances at him from the corner of his eye for a short moment but says nothing in acknowledgement, simply slanting his leg in compliance so that Nir can get a better look. Even though he knows his lover is purposefully looking away, Niraeniel still smiles softly at him. He leans down to the examine the wound closer, taking hold of the other’s lower thigh again. The gash isn’t terribly long nor deep, but it still cuts scarily close to the major artery within Astarion’s thigh.
“Huh. Certainly a strange angle to go at …”
“Do you actually plan on helping or are you just going to gawk at me where the sun doesn’t shine?” Astarion snarls at him, but his ragged speak betrays his tone, sounding more like doubt than disdain.
The tieflings sighs, “Please, I really don’t have the patience to argue with you right now.”
With his free hand, Niraeniel intertwines his fingers with Astarion’s, and the gesture immediately pulls his gaze back to the man before him. Astarion finally notices the look of genuine concern marking his lover’s features, and his own expression softens at the sight, feeling a pang of guilt for acting coldly. Astarion’s eyes then follow down to their hands clasped together, and he offers a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement. “Fine, then. I suppose I’m in no position to be fighting again so soon, either.”
Niraeniel chuckles at that, and the sound is sweet enough to even tug the corners of Astarion’s mouth into a weak smile.
“Just sit back. I’ve got you, I promise,” Niraeniel murmurs reassuringly.
As if his words weren’t enough to swallow, Astarion nearly freezes when the other man leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Normally, he’d try to deflect this nauseating amount of tenderness, but for now he’s content to do exactly as asked, letting his eyes flutter shut as Niraeniel continues to tend to his wounds.
With a careful hand, he guides a needle through the tip of the driver from the suturing kit and the braces the edge of the gash with the forceps in his other hand. Astarion hisses when he feels the needle dig into his skin, and although there’s no direct pain thanks to the potion he drank earlier, the mere sensation of the needle pulling through his flesh is uncomfortable to say the least.
Still, he watches intently as Niraeniel knits the skin back together, tying knots in the catgut thread to secure it in place before cutting the excess string and making his way down the gash to repeat the process.
Astarion clears his throat. “So, may I at least ask how you learned to treat wounds like this?”
Niraeniel hums passively at the question, too fixated on making precise movements to look up at the vampire. “It came with my career, honestly. I usually work alone, so I had time to practice on myself.” His nose wrinkles at the memory, remembering how excruciatingly painful it was to stitch his own injuries back up after a few close calls — and the times he witnessed the same reaction from siblings in arms when there were no healing potions left to spare. He continues, “But sometimes they’d pair me with younger recruits who made a habit of biting off more than they could chew. It became a rather important skill.”
“I see,” Astarion muses, his thoughts immediately drifting to the worst possible scenarios. “Has anyone died under your care?”
“Not necessarily. I try my best, but I’m not a cleric. Some wounds cut deeper beyond normal ability.” Niraeniel’s words seem to trail off, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air as his own mind begins to spiral. He immediately shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the creeping memories. “But you’re not at risk of passing prematurely right now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh, clutching a hand over his unbeating heart theatrically. “Oh, thank the Gods, I was worried about my obituary sounding too boring. ‘Stabbed in the femoral artery by a lunatic gnome’ is a rather dull way to go out, don’t you think?”
“You jest, but count yourself lucky she missed the mark. A cut there could have bled you out in minutes.”
The vampire huffs bitterly in response, quickly dropping the act. He appears rather deep in thought now, if the serious expression pursing his face served as any indication.
Satisfied with the other’s silence and his own needlework, Niraeniel pats his knee before pulling away to grab a small jar of ointment. Astarion winces from how cold the cream is, but decides it would be a poor idea to complain. He simply breathes in deep, shifting his position now that he doesn’t have to sit frozen in place.
He gazes up at the ceiling, finally stable enough to reflect on the events that transpired today. They’d been ambushed by a group of Bhaalists while taking a shortcut through a park, of all the damned places. Luckily, he was able to react quickly, opening throats with his dual daggers with a terrifying level of finesse. Though admittedly, he did get a bit ahead of himself, tunnel vision set on taking out the archer above — it left the group exposed from behind, which might have been a fatal mistake for Niraeniel if Astarion hadn’t swooped in to take the blow for him.
Astarion swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. On one hand, yes, he does feel rather stupid for redirecting the attacker’s swing to an equally lethal area on his body, but on the other …
He remembers the wide-eyed look of fear on his lover’s face as he staggered backwards to avoid the figure behind him, and the even more dramatic look of horror upon watching Astarion proceed to tackle the perpetrator to the ground. Niraeniel was rarely, if ever, caught by surprise — Astarion calls to mind the night he was crouched over the other’s unconscious body, just about to sink his teeth into the poor tiefling’s exposed neck before he stirred awake right in time. There was no look of panic, nor a startled scream. Just a disconcertingly straight face as he scrambled to pull out his boot-knife and then held it to the vampire’s throat.
Although the details remain hazy considering the bloodthirsty frenzy Astarion was in, he remembers Niraeniel being just as quiet when he took his last breath, offering little more than a strangled cry and weak scratch at the vampire’s shoulder before falling limp in his arms.
Astarion panicked to find a solution at first, but if he’s being perfectly honest, he wasn’t particularly moved by the loss. He’d only known the man for a day or two, after all. Although, there was something tragically beautiful about the scene he had caused — Blood dribbled down his chin, and he felt the warmth of it both on his skin and surging through his body. He was lost in the comfort of it all, until the eerie silence from the body beneath his pulled him back to reality.
The fond memory lingered in his mind for a while, until he started growing closer and closer to the man, their relationship eventually spinning into something far more intense than either would have imagined. What Astarion feels for Nir runs far deeper than body and blood, and the thought of the tiefling’s bloodied cadaver staring lifelessly at him again is sickening. It was motivation enough to throw his own life into danger.
Before Astarion can drown in his own morbid musing, a quick tug to the pointed tip of his ear snaps him out of his mind. His head jerks down to meet eyes with a very distressed looking Niraeniel.
“Astarion?”
“Yes, dearest?”
Niraeniel immediately flicks his forehead, earning a forced yet unenthusiastic ‘ow’ from the vampire. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You had me worried sick for a minute there.”
“Terribly sorry about that,” Astarion replies, feigning nonchalance. “Lounging by the fireplace like this is rather cozy. Can you blame me for nodding off?”
The tiefling tuts at the blatant lie, shaking his head in disapproval. He doesn’t comment on it any more though, resuming with the task at hand. He carefully wraps the injured leg in a cloth bandage, dressing layer by layer. “What happened back there, anyway? I thought we agreed to stick together.”
“And that’s what I was doing. I spotted her sneaking up from behind. She would have stabbed you if I hadn’t intervened,” Astarion explains, hunching over slightly to lean in close to Nir’s face.
“Is that supposed to comfort me? I’ve been on the giving and receiving end of some pretty serious injuries. You don’t need to protect me.”
Astarion huffs out a laugh of disbelief that they’re even having this conversation. “And just what was I supposed to do instead? Stand there and let it happen?” His tone is packed with a bite, but behind it there’s an ache of concern. He sighs deeply, “Hells, is it really so inconceivable that I don’t want to see you hurt?”
Niraeniel searches his lover’s gaze, but there’s no hint of deceit reflected in his ruby eyes. Just raw honesty.
“I understand that. But I could say the same thing about you.”
They’re both left quiet again for an uncomfortable few seconds in time before Niraeniel finally snips off the extra material of the bandaging and pins the end of the wrapping around Astarion’s thigh securely. “There,” he starts, pushing off of his knees to stand. “Now the worst is taken care of, at least. Do you think you’re able to stand?”
Astarion shrugs and reaches for the tiefling’s hand, trying to lift himself off of the floor until he grunts in pain and falls back on his rear from putting pressure onto his wounded leg.
Niraeniel can’t help but laugh at the tumble, quickly kneeling back down beside the vampire who’s now staring daggers into him. “Okay, okay, maybe not so soon,” he sputters out, reaching into his pack for a vial of red liquid. He pops the cork of it open, holding it up to Astarion’s mouth. “Could you drink this, please?”
Astarion raises an eyebrow skeptically. Although he trusts Nir fully, he would still prefer to know what he’s about to ingest before taking a swig. “First of all, what is it?”
“Rogue’s Morsel, Balsam, and Mergrass. Don’t worry, it’s just something to hasten the healing process.”
The vampire nods slowly in understanding, letting his body sink back onto the floor once more as he tries to release the tension building up inside of him. He reaches for the vial, but Nir gently pushes his hand away.
“Don’t,” he insists, pressing the rim of the glass to Astarion’s lips. “I’ll take care of you.”
Astarion scrunches his nose, pulling away from the other’s touch despite the feelings at the base of his mind screaming at him to give in for once. “Ugh, I’m not helpless, you know. I don’t need you to dote on me.”
Niraeniel shakes his head. “Maybe so, but you don’t need to carry everything on your own, and I’d love to help you. Just let me try.”
“Help me? You’ve already done enough, what makes you think —“
“Nothing at all, barring the fact that you almost bled to death on me,” Niraeniel cuts him off, a sneering edge to his voice. “But … it runs deeper than that. I know you don’t like relying on anyone for anything. It’s admiral to be independent, but not when you’re hiding on purpose.”
Astarion’s mouth parts to bark back in protest, but before he can start, Nir interrupts him once more, “And you should know well by now that you don’t need to hide from me. Not even your at your worst.”
The vampire is rightfully stilled, eyes widening as he stares at the man with a mix of wonder and horror from being read so thoroughly — he’s an open book before him, tattered edges and all. He lets out a deep sigh, wearily accepting the fact that it would be foolish to keep pretending Niraeniel couldn’t see right through him. “I’m just not used to … all of this. I can’t even remember the last time someone treated me like you do.”
“Good thing I’m here for you now, then,” Nir replies. He brings the vial to Astarion’s lips once more, quietly thankful that the vampire finally relents and parts his mouth. Carefully, Niraeniel brings his free hand up to Astarion’s face, cupping his jaw and tilting it upwards ever so lightly. He rubs his thumb over the elf’s cheekbones as the red liquid trickles into his mouth, emptying the glass of its contents.
“Was that so hard?” Nir teases, smiling softly once Astarion is finished drinking from the glass. The tiefling then discards the vial, paying no mind to the way it rolls across the floor — far too busy with brushing a stray curl behind Astarion’s ear to care.
“If it were anyone else, yes. But you have quite the knack for hospitality, my dear.” Astarion’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip, savoring the taste of the elixir he just drank. “Did you mix that yourself?”
Nir hums in affirmation. “It’s nothing special. I’m surprised the flavor wasn’t horrible, though. Those ingredients tend to be a bit, ah, bitter.”
Without thinking any better of it, his eyes trail down to the vampire’s sanguine-stained lips — a mistake Astarion quickly notices.
The vampire chuckles softly, finding his partner’s habit of wordless admiration to be quite endearing. “Oh? Are you looking for a taste as well?”
“Of you? Always.”
Without missing even a heartbeat, he leans in to lock mouths with Astarion, nipping playfully at his lower lip. He was right — the taste is pleasantly earthy, though there’s a faint hint of iron mixed in, no doubt the remnants of blood from Astarion’s earlier snacking.
When Nir begins to pull away, Astarion weakly reaches up to tug on the collar of his shirt to draw him right back in to the kiss. His hand falters not a moment after, brushing against the bare skin of the other’s chest peeking out from the neckline of his garment before falling back into place on his lap. He grumbles at his own tenuousness, uneasy at the concept feeling so utterly weak in front of another person — both physically and emotionally, in his dreadful case.
It’s always with him, Astarion thinks to himself, He’ll be the death of me yet.
Nir observes the failed affection, and immediately backs away, nervous that he did something to upset his lover. “Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, no, not really,” Astarion responds rather sarcastically, “just that I’m currently lacking the strength to so much as touch you.” He rolls his eyes as if to shrug off the issue, though the distracted look in his gaze is enough to signal his disappointment.
Nir laughs, “Numbing will do that to you. I would offer to sit on your lap if you’re really looking to get close, but …” The tiefling trails off, choosing to gesture vaguely towards Astarion’s damaged leg instead.
“Mocking a feeble man now, are you? That’s quite cruel, even by my standards,” Astarion teases, pretending to be offended.
“Oh, hush. You’ll be fine come daylight.” Nir presses a finger to his lips, letting it linger there for a moment while he’s lost in thought. “Would it help if you fed from me?”
Astarion tilts his head, a rather uncharacteristically adorable gesture for such a sharp-edged man. “I didn’t want to ask since you also lost a decent amount of blood from that fight, but if you’re offering …”
Niraeniel nods, immediately beginning to fumble with the buttons on his shirt and letting the fabric fall to his arms, tilting his chin up to bare his neck. Though his skin is a dark grey tone, the freckles dotting his arms seem to twinkle under the glow of the hearth’s fire.
The sudden gesture surprises Astarion, delightfully amused by how ready the other man is to offer his own life force. “Careful now, dear. If anyone were to walk in on us right now, they would think you were trying to seduce me.”
“Just bite me before I change my mind.”
“Ah, you’re such a sweetheart,” Astarion quips with a cheeky wink before diving right in — his fangs descending on their usual target on Niraeniel’s neck, tearing through the dual puncture marks that just begun to heal. Nir yelps at the sudden pain, but wraps his arms around Astarion to pull him closer anyway. The vampire makes a strange sound of approval somewhere between a moan and a low hum, sipping greedily at his neck. But this time, just like every night after the tiefling had first offered him sustenance, he releases his bite before the sanguine satisfaction can cloud his thoughts.
Astarion’s eyelids flutter closed as he slouches forward, nuzzling the top of his head into the crook of Niraeniel’s neck. He sighs contently, finding the strength in his arms to return his partner’s embrace.
“Thank you,” the vampire murmurs softly, rubbing circles into the other’s back to soothe the pain.
Niraeniel nods, “Of course. Though … I have to ask, what do I taste like? A mouthful of blood like that only has smack of iron to me.”
“It does? That’s a pity.” Astarion finally withdraws from the hug to examine his own gory handiwork. ”The flavor is bit hard to describe, though — everyone has their unique taste, but yours is particularly enigmatic. Like a lush full-bodied wine, though there’s a delectable hint of raspberries and dark chocolate.”
“Aww, now I almost feel like I’m missing out. Almost.”
“On being a vampire?” Astarion questions. “Trust me, darling, the list of quirks is far shorter than what you’ll lose. Besides, I would certainly miss this,” he purrs, referring to the warmth of the tiefling’s skin by the way he’s now tracing a finger down his arm.
“Your touch has never bothered me,” admits Niraeniel, disguising a shiver elicited from Astarion’s cold, clammy caress as a slight shrug not a second later. He is telling the truth, though. No matter how his body reacts out of initial instinct, he still longs for more.
“Hmph. I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before. Not with my clothes still on, at least.” Astarion finishes his sentence with a chuckle to lighten the mood just a little bit, but the attempt falls flat from how utterly despondent he sounds.
“There’s many more ways to be intimate with someone beyond that.” To emphasize his point, Nir takes the other’s wandering hand into his own and brings it to rest over his heart.
Astarion glances up at him questioningly, but is quickly distracted by the steady beating just beneath his palm. He lets his hand flatten out against the bared chest, focusing on the thick texture of the ridges lining Nir’s skin underneath his fingertips and the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. He’s so very alive, so full of warmth and a hidden kind of radiance only ever revealed during tender moments like this.
Only ever revealed to me, Astarion realizes.
He closes his eyes, still fixated on the thrum of his lover’s heart. “I know,” he starts, “It’s more a matter of not really knowing how, I suppose. Cazador never let me hold onto any of my conquests longer than what was necessary. Which, admittedly, felt like a small mercy at times.”
Nir gently squeezes his hand in a silent sort of understanding, a solemn expression on his face. There’s a darkness that quells within him — that familiar drive to maim and murder, and for once he doesn’t chase it away. He may not have suffered what Astarion has, but he’s going to delight in ripping Cazador to shreds for what he’s done anyway. He almost gets lost in his own grisly imagination before Astarion’s touch drags him back — a soft, unintentional tap to his sternum.
Nir bows his head, both out of sympathy and his own shame. “I may not be able to take away your past, but I can promise you that it’ll be a cold day in Avernus before I let anything happen to you again.” He notices Astarion crack an eye open at this, and so the tiefling holds his gaze firmly. “I don’t know how either, as you’ve probably gathered by now. But I’d love to learn, as long as that’s what you want as well. We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
As be begins to pull away, Astarion immediately clutches at his shoulder, rooting him in place. “Wait. Wait. Gods, if there’s anyone I’m going to be this close with, I …”
He stops himself, turning his head away rather bashfully, appearing more like a smitten schoolboy than a man of his age. “I want it to be you,” Astarion finally adds, words tumbling out as little more than a whisper.
The confession hangs in the air between them for a long moment before Nir exhales slowly, relief flooding through him. "Astarion," he says quietly, reaching up to carefully brush the back of his knuckles along Astarion’s flushed cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before cupping his face in both hands. "We'll have to figure this out together, won’t we?”
Astarion’s eyes soften as he studies Niraeniel's profile, taking in every little detail — the tired look in his eyes, to the way strands of white hair fall in his face, and how his hands tremble ever so slightly, like the tiefling is scared of shattering him if he holds on too tightly. It's clear to see how much effort Niraeniel puts into caring for Astarion’s comfort first and foremost, and that kindness alone fills the vampire with a warmth he hasn’t felt in far, far too long — if ever.
Without any further thought, Astarion crashes his lips against Nir’s, a sense of urgency and need fueling the kiss. Astarion wraps his arms around him, letting himself fall back onto the floor below while pulling Niraeniel down with him. He can’t help but grin against his mouth, fangs grazing against his lower lip ever so slightly. Their teeth knock together, but neither seem to care, happily hurried and messy with their affections.
Niraeniel finally parts to take a deep breath and re-adjust his position so that he’s straddling Astarion’s waist, his hands now on either side of the vampire’s head in order to keep himself up while he drapes his body over the other’s. He lowers his head back down again, meeting Astarion’s lips in another deep kiss. Astarion’s own hands travel up the tiefling’s back, eliciting a shiver which he chuckles at. His fingers tangle into his long white hair, untying the ponytail in the back of it so that Niraeniel’s hair now cascades downward, tickling Astarion’s cheeks.
Nir slowly begins to trail his lips down to his jaw, but doesn’t actually kiss him yet, instead pausing in place just a few centimeters away. “Is this okay? Can I kiss you here?”
“Do you really need to ask that?”
“Always better to make sure,” Niraeniel responds, but still doesn’t budge.
Astarion rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yes that’s perfectly fine.”
At his word, the tiefling resumes his ministrations, leaving kisses across his cheeks and jawline. They’re quick and chaste, little more than hurried dabs before moving onto the next area, nuzzling into the crook of Astarion’s neck.
“What about here,” Niraeniel questions, “Is this okay?”
“You don’t need to ask for my approval for every little thing,” Astarion sighs out. Although he feigns sounding irritated, it couldn’t be further from the truth — his lover’s insistence on consent is rather endearing, and a sharp departure from what he’s used to. No one has ever payed that much attention to his wants and needs — far too eager to take until there’s nothing left of his body and mind to give. And yet Niraeniel refuses to even move a muscle until Astarion gives his explicit agreement.
“But … yes.”
Astarion can feel the corners of the man’s lips curl up as they press against his throat, tracing the curve of his Adam’s apple. He can feel his breath upon his neck, close to the permanent bite scars that mark his flesh, and the sensation makes him quiver ever so slightly.
Content with his reaction, Niraeniel sits back up, peering down at Astarion from above. “You need a bath,” he comments, brushing a curl back behind his ear.
“Are you saying I’m dirty?”
“Maybe,” Nir says with a devious smile.
Astarion scrunches his nose but still grins back, nudging the other’s arm playfully in retaliation.
“Hey, we’ve both had a long day,” the tiefling adds in defense of himself. “But … would you let me take care of you?”
“Didn’t you just?”
“No, I mean, would you, ah —” His words trail off as he thinks of how to best propose his question, unable to meet Astarion’s eyes. “Would you let me help you bathe?”
Astarion blinks, quirking an eyebrow from both confusion as well as suspicion of Niraeniel’s intentions.
“I won’t be getting in with you,” Nir clarifies, shaking his head. “I can wash off later. This is purely about spoiling you.”
“Mm-hmm,” Astarion hums, now in deep imagination about the idea of being washed by someone else. It’s a sickeningly sweet and vulnerable concept, something more suitable for a happily married couple instead of the strange bond between them that neither man has bothered to put a proper name to. Still, the thought is a welcome one, especially if it means getting to be spoiled like royalty. “An invitation to be pampered by a sweet boy such as yourself? I must be dreaming.”
“Is that so?” Niraeniel questions, already swinging his leg off of Astarion’s waist so he can stand. “You’ll have to tell me all about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, then.”
Astarion pushes his back up from the ground as well, moving back into a sitting position. “Well, it starts with you sweeping me off my feet and carrying me like a princess over to the washroom, since it’d be terrible if I had to move my leg again so soon.”
“Surely you’re joking? You probably weigh above four stones more than I do,” Niraeniel complains, gesturing up and down to his own short stature. The vampire has over twenty five centimeters on him in height, which isn’t a terrible disparity, but Nir is rather weak.
Astarion follows the other’s hand movements, drinking in the full sight of him toweing above his sitting form. “Ah, that’s true. I suppose you’ll just have to figure something else out then, won’t you, darling?”
Nir grumbles in response, but his tone is distinctly light-hearted. “Alright, but if I drop you, then the blame is all yours.”
“I can live with that.”
Niraeniel shifts into a crouching position and hooks an arm underneath the crook of Astarion’s knees and wraps his other arm around his back. He murmurs a cantrip under his breath — a simple spell to temporarily amplify the strength in his grasp, just for a handful of time. He takes a sharp inhale before beginning to lift the vampire’s body with a near-effortless amount of ease. The man still weighs down his back, but at the very least, he’s secure in his arms.
Astarion’s breath hitches when he realizes he’s actually being picked up bridal-style, as he expected Nir to simply let him lean on his shoulder and limp side-by-side. Yet here he is now, nearly curled up into a fetal position and held close to the other man’s chest by his warm embrace. His knee-jerk reaction is to demand to be let down immediately, but he’s unable to muster the strength to speak those words.
And that’s when he finally understands just how utterly weak he is in his lover’s presence. How Niraeniel lets him drop his strength at the door — no, how he encourages him to do so. He’s broken down the vampire’s carefully constructed walls only to build them back up again twice as strong around the two of them. There’s no need for him to let go of this feeling of safety like he has so many times before. This comfort isn’t ephemeral — it clings to him much in the same way he’s now wrapping his arms tightly around Niraeniel’s neck, wondering if it’s possible to melt into someone else.
Slowly, he peeks his eyes open once more, peering up at his partner’s face who’s already smiling down at him.
“Aren’t you just adorable,” Niraeniel teases, pressing a kiss to the vampire’s forehead.
Astarion rolls his eyes. “Paint a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Niraeniel knows it’s a playful jab, but responds in earnest anyway, “I think not. The real thing is much better.”
Once inside the washroom, Nir gently sets the man down on stool tucked into the corner. Now kneeling beside Astarion, he places his hands on either side of his shoulders, grabbing his attention. “Do you need help, you know, getting undressed?”
Astarion ponders the question for a moment, not entirely sure of his own answer. He loves Niraeniel dearly, trusting that he would never hurt him, but the thought of someone else’s hands reaching to undress his body again …
Astarion shakes his head. “I appreciate the thought, but no. I think I’d be more comfortable doing that part myself, for now.”
Niraeniel nods, releasing his grip on the other’s shoulders. “Of course. I’ll keep my back turned. When the water is ready, I’ll let you know, athough I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to get over to the tub on your own …”
The vampire chuckles. “Always worried about me, hm? I’m sure I’ll be fine crawling just a meter or two.”
Niraeniel smiles back at him, ruffling up Astarion’s hair before rising to his feet. “By your orders, my liege,” he says sarcastically, offering a dramatic bow before turning to the tub. The tiefling kneels at the edge of the basin and turns the on the faucet, letting it fill with water. He reaches a hand out to let the water run over it, testing the temperature and then adjusting it to be just a little bit hotter than what would be comfortable for most, mindful of the fact that Astarion doesn’t feel heat quite as strongly.
Once satisfied, he pushes himself off the ground once more, walking over to the nearby cabinets. He sorts through the shelves, looking through the assortment of soaps and vials stocked so considerately by the roomkeeper. “What do you want to smell like? Bergamot, vanilla, lavender? Or something spicy, perhaps?”
Astarion hums thoughtfully, still busy with removing his clothes. “I’m not sure. I’m quite fond of bergamot, but I already have that mixed into my perfume,” he muses. Astarion finishes unlacing his braies, letting the article pool onto the floor with the rest of his rather elaborate get-up.
He remembers when he bought it — the group had stopped at an armory to stock up on better gear that wasn’t nearly tearing at the seams from how much use it had seen. Niraeniel had offered his own coin to buy a costly set the vampire had his eyes on. There was no use arguing with him — he was wholly satisfied to see how the fit looked while Astarion was modeling it, a content smile on his face while he helped to adjust the leather padding of the coat. Astarion just stood there rather awkwardly, if a bit tense, caugh up in the careful touch of his companion’s hands across his body. He’s certainly not used to be fussed over in that way, and although he adores it coming from Niraeniel, he couldn’t quite shake the nagging thought of when the comforting contact would warp into something cold and cruel.
But it never did.
He wanted to lift the other man into his arms and kiss him until he was breathless just as much as he wanted to run and hide from the uncharted territory.
Astarion looks over at him now, watching as Niraeniel continues to rummage through the cabinet, the sound of glasses clinking together and getting knocked over competing with the rush of the water filling the basin. The tiefling never once peers back to get an eyeful of Astarion’s barren form, just as he promised, too caught up in reading the labels on each bottle and bar to care about much else. The sight makes something within Astarion’s chest stir — like the beating of a heart, if his memory serves him correctly. Like the gust of a balmy breeze in a land where wind hasn’t blown in centuries.
He think he’s just about lost his mind when he begins to laugh. It’s an honest-to-gods giggle, a carefree sort of sound unburdened by the weight of today, or yesterday, or the centuries before that.
Niraeniel begins to turn his head in confusion, but quickly stops himself short. “Uh, Astarion? Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh, I couldn’t be better, my dear. Trust me,” Astarion responds, still grinning like an idiot. “Anyway, what’s your favorite scent? We’ll go with that.”
“It’s … mugwort. Are you sure?”
“As ever,” Astarion purrs. He can’t tell if he means the soap or is asking for reassurance about his mood, but regardless, it’s a resounding yes.
Niraeniel heaves a deep sigh, allowing his shoulders to sag slightly. “Maybe I should have brought you to a cleric to begin with,” he adds, letting out a soft laugh of his own. He plucks the mugwort-scented bar of soap from the shelf, as well as a few other toiletries — a bottle of conditioner, a soft rag, and a towel for later. After turning back to the tub to set the supplies down, he turns the faucet off and reaches an arm into the water, swirling it around. “Perfect. Now it’s your turn to drag yourself over here, I’m afraid.”
“No. Carry me.”
“What?”
“You heard me the first time, darling.”
“I — I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with that,” Niraeniel admits, “Since you’re, well, naked.” The tiefling still doesn’t turn his head, choosing to remain kneeling by the bathtub.
Astarion shrugs, even though he knows the other man can’t see him. “I didn’t know if I would be either. But I’ve come to find that I feel safe with you,” he explains, trying not to focus on the lump forming in his throat. “I know you’re trying to tread carefully for my sake, so … I trust that you’re not going to do anything to upset me. Not on purpose.”
The tiefling dips his head in understanding, closing his eyes. “I’m glad. We’ll try, but as I’ve said so many times before — if something doesn’t feel right, you need to tell me. Please.”
“I don’t think anything could feel wrong, as long as I’m with you,” Astarion responds, his voice now sounding raw like he hadn’t spoken in years, honesty wearing through his tone. “Now, are you going to lift me again, or not?”
Niraeniel laughs, already beginning to stand and turn without missing a beat. He can now see the vampire’s coiled form in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest out of modesty. There’s absolutely nothing arousing about the scene, though — what lays in front of him is not just a body, but a person — his lover. He picks Astarion up again with ease, eyes never leaving each other’s gaze, like an exchange of unspoken words only they understand.
To Astarion, it’s a promise of protection. He feels so utterly exposed like this, and yet the way Nir stares past the surface and into something far deeper within him feels like being wrapped in silks and linens — a new and terrifying kind of way to be known by another soul, but ever-so-comforting to know that he doesn’t need to hide from it.
Astarion whines as he’s being gently lowered into the water, already missing the tender skinship. Still, he allows himself to relax fully, focusing on the warmth of the bath enveloping his body.
“Feels good?” Nir asks, beginning to dip the rag into the water and lather it with the bar of soap.
“If you told me I died and woke up in the heavens, I’d probably believe you.” Astarion smiles at the thought, letting his head roll back onto the lip of the basin and eyes blink shut in bliss.
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.” Once the rag is soapy enough, the tiefling taps softly on Astarion’s shoulder, the gesture making the vampire open his eyes just enough to peer back questioningly.
“May I?” Niraeniel asks, gesturing to other’s shoulders which are peeking out of the water.
Astarion nods. “You may.”
His eyes flutter closed again as Nir begins to brush the rag against his body, surprised at himself for not flinching out of impulse. It … feels quite nice, actually, Astarion thinks, as the feather-light grazes across his skin washing away all of the dirt and blood from their earlier battle. He can certainly smell the mugwort, the bitter sage-like scent filling the air he breathes.
“You know, mugwort is technically a psychoactive herb,” Niraeniel recalls, reaching across to lift the other man’s arm, spreading soap down the length of it. “Not a particularly strong one at all, but it’s still used often to induce a mild feeling of euphoria.”
“Is that why you drink it?”
“Indeed. It tends to help with my nightmares too. Not that you’d need it for that reason, considering you only need to trance.”
Astarion hums in acknowledgement. “I can sleep if I want to, although staying unconscious for nearly seven hours straight doesn’t sound like something I’d trade for.” He leans forward, allowing Nir’s hand to travel from his arm down to his back, scrubbing away at the skin there. “But it’d certainly be a nice excuse to stay in bed with you for a little while longer.”
Maybe the mugwort is fueling his mood somewhat, but Astarion almost feels as though he’s floating. Being treated so tenderly by someone else — it’s almost overwhelming, like Niraeniel’s touch is liquid fire and he could burn up any minute now. He’s grateful that his head is bowed in this position, otherwise his lover would most certainly notice the tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes.
Tears. Tears. Not from distress or any other negative reason, but from complete and utter absolution, releasing the agony from over two hundred years without any kind touch, little by little.
Unexpectedly, Niraeniel tilts Astarion’s head back up, about to begin lathering soap into the vampire’s hair. Just like Astarion had anticipated, the man immediately catches sight of a fat tear rolling down his pale cheek, dripping into the water below. But before he can even begin to pull away, Astarion grabs the other’s hand and holds it firmly in place.
“Keep going. Please.”
Niraeniel’s mouth merely hangs open, frozen and unsure of what to say or do in the face of his lover when he’s like this.
Astarion chuckles at the sight, shaking his head before wiping his own eyes. “They’re good tears, my sweet. Don’t worry.”
The tiefling is silent for a moment longer, still questioning Astarion’s honesty. He looks for any telltale signs of detachment — a far off stare, dialated pupils, twitching ears — but there is none. Astarion wants this. With a kind smile, Niraeniel cautiously leans forward, slow enough that Astarion can lean away if he needs to, but he never does.
Instead, the vampire meets him half-way, pressing their lips together gently. There’s no hunger in the way he kisses him now, or at least none in his usual way. Simply a chaste affection and an aching to be shared, to be known and tasted, not as a body, but as something beyond the physical realm entirely. An aching to be loved.
And as the tiefling responds with a lighthearted giggle, already beginning to run the conditioner through his curls and massage his scalp with deft fingers — all the while peppering kisses over every inch of his face — Astarion begins to realize how much he aches to love him back.
hi i barely use this website anymore (mostly on twt here and here) but i want to get this fic out there more because i'm v proud of this part in particular!
for now — likes, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so much for reading this far!
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion#astarion x oc#astarion x durge#astarion x tav#astarion fic#fanfiction#writing#support your local homo writing about homos i guess#ive been obsessed w this character since ea im so glad hes finally getting the popularity he deserves#hes been a treat to watch develop ehe#and by that i mean wow! im in this game and i dont like it! /ref#astarion fluff#dividers by cafekitsune#astarion ancunin
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