#he has more reasons than anyone to hate/fear vampires | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feyascorner · 26 days

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11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that?

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters.

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

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#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #tfbu #astarion x oc #tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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louisandjade · 5 months

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spuffy fic rec, pt.2

part 1

(Unintended) You Could Be by ashcrashed [14k]

No, she hadn’t lost her mind. Because the reasons that made Spike the actual worst also made him the right one for the job.

Domino Effect by Anaross [15k]

Spike slips away unnoticed after Angel gives Buffy the amulet that might help in the final battle and runs directly into a tearful Buffy with a message from the future. AU after End of Days.

Monky Business by Girlytek [18k]

Retconning Dawn is harder than it looks.

In Remission by Quinara [19k]

In the five years Spike's been missing, the world around Buffy has irrevocably changed. The general population has woken up to vampires' existence and the kill count has dropped way down. She's sharing a house with a soulless vampire, still going by the name of Faith. But what does Spike have to do with it? And what does it mean for their future?

Devouring Time by Sigyn [20k]

An apocalypse has ravaged the world. Buffy has lost her friends, and her beloved Spike, and wants nothing more than to die, to rest, but immortality denies her that chance. With nothing more than her scythe and a hint of possibility, she seeks out a goddess of time, who offers her the chance to enter a universe of her own past, to choose a champion and save the world. Buffy knows who she would choose. But how can this Spike, paralyzed, filled with rage, and still in love with Drusilla, possibly be a champion for life, for light, and for the slayer he hates? Only time will tell.

Bring On Christmastime by bewildered [21k]

Welcome, Gentle Readers! Have you ever wondered the true meaning of Christmas? I know I have. But never fear, I, Andrew Wells -- having been privileged to bear witness to a Christmas miracle, in this the year Anno Domini Two Thousand and Two -- shall now share with you the answer, a tale that will warm the cockles of your cold, cold heart and fill you to the brim with tingly, pepperminty Christmas spirit.

There's something about Anne by Frillyria [44k]

Anne is just a regular girl until a not-so-regular boy gets a hold of her - she is thrown into a life outside her control, and has to do what she can to survive - and to choose hope over fear and distrust.

nothing safe is worth the drive (follow you home) by SummerFrost [61k]

Here's the deal: Buffy's got no idea how to beat Glory, or how they're gonna book it across the country in a moldy RV without anyone killing each other, especially now that someone broke one of the beds—and the thought of going home again kinda makes her wanna cry. The one thing she knows is that Spike would follow her anywhere, even like this.

The Key is Donnie Summers by Girlytek [121k]

Response to tempestt's challenge, what if Dawn were Donnie, if the monks had created a brother for Buffy instead of a sister? --complete through Season 5--

Liebestod by Iamblichus [149k]

They really should have known the First Evil wasn't done with them after Sunnydale… Enter: Time-travel, mysterious prophesies, and lots of poetry. BtVS Post-Season 7; Angel AU Season 5. All's well that ends well.

#psa: 'in remission' is not the most feel-good read but it had to be in there imo #maybe follow it up with a bit of fluff lol #spuffy #spike x buffy #buffy x spike #spuffy fic #spuffy fic rec #spuffy fic recs #spuffy ficrec #spuffy ficrecs #mine

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queenofthedisneyverse · 10 months

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For your earth 42 headcanons: How would Miles deal with becoming a vampire in the first place? Thx!

I think he would know what was happening to him because of the bat biting him but be completely stumped on what to do.

When the bat bit him Miles kind of harshly grabbed it and well...killed it. It was a small bat, so it wasn't that hard.

The bat senses kicked it right after it bit him, which from Miles' perspective was a very trippy experience.

Everything around him was like a loud mosh pit. His canines were replaced with very sharp fangs, which was very painful. And claws began to strike through his fingers, again, very painful.

However, he did feel this rush of adrenaline kick in...and the need for blood at the moment.

The rest of the night was a blur for him, and he somehow ended up passed out on his uncle's living room floor. with the bat still in his hand.

It was about 6:30 in the morning when he almost gave his uncle a heart attack.

While Miles was asleep in a blood coma Aaron examined it. The bat had purple, black, and green fur.

'i'm no zoologist or animal keeper but this aint no normal bat'

After waking Miles up, with a cross & prowler claw in hand, he talked with Miles and asked him what happened.

As a few weeks go pass Aaron notices that some pets are going missing throughout the neighborhood.

Aaron confronts Miles about it "you know you can just eat the people we're told to kill right? stop eatin animals man."

Miles did just that, suck the blood out of anyone he was told to assassinate.

But before that Aaron let the sinister six cartel know about Miles "condition". They didn't believe him until one of them saw Miles sucking the blood out of someone.

If there were any "leftovers" that one of the sinister six cartel didn't kill, they would give that "left over" to Miles.

But just so you know, most of the sinister six are scared of Miles at this point. They just don't show it, but Miles can feel it because he has bat genes coursing through his veins. And what are bats? Animals, and animals can smell/sense fear.

Miles began to notice new things about himself, other than sucking the life out of people.

When he's calm and/or not hungry his claws and fangs retract.

He can hear when something or someone is approaching or where someone/thing is. Also known as echo location.

He's incredibly fast, he noticed when he was chasing down a target.

Super strong, realized this when a sinister six member got stuck under some rebel. He lifted the huge debris off the member like it was nothing.

he can walk on walls and has venomous fangs. His venom will instantly paralyze & numb you.

And he can heal rather quickly, like Deadpool quick. So, if he's shot in the head, he'll be fine.

He HATES sunlight now, he can go out in daylight but highly despises the idea.

This gives the cartel all the more reason to be afraid of him.

Aaron would steal some blood bags from hospitals in case there were no missions to go on.

Oh yeah, Miles became a "vampire" the same day 1610! Miles became spiderman.

#prowler miles #prowler!miles #miles morales prowler #prowler #miles 4 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #earth 42 #miles 42 #Vampire prowler miles au

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ficbrish · 4 months

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Snippet Saturday

[06Jan2024]

This is from one of the posted one shots in my Kinktober collection.

"A Ten Year"

snippet is mature, 18+

bg3 spoilers!!! (takes place post-canon)

[Astarion and Vistri stay at Gale's tower to experiment with magic]

[[tw/cw: alcohol]]

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greeted delightedly as she entered their rooms.

Together they made ten years fly by, yet Vistri felt like she was beholding his face for the first time, only just now becoming acquainted with his voice. She still felt like that when they reunited after being apart for any amount of time. Even just within the space of half a day.

Vistri pouted, “I think he hates me.”

Astarion affectionately pretended to be fed up with her, “What’d you do this time?”

“I… teased him a little.”

“Oh, come now! If he was ever going to hate you over that, we wouldn’t ever be invited to stay.”

Vistri laughed, and its ugliness made her the most precious thing. Astarion had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and feel her convulse against his chest.

His eyes were soft, “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Vistri closed hers to soak up the heat and sincerity in his tone. It was sweeter than a song.

Their tongues did the rest of the talking. Then they found each other’s skin underneath their fine clothes. Passing breath back and forth until they eventually sunk to the floor and melted into each other.

Afterwards, they gazed in amazement while their chests wracked like stormy waves. Vistri wiped a drop of sweat off Astarion’s brow that threatened to fall into his eye.

“Let’s take a bath,” she purred.

When they all met for dinner later Gale was no longer peeved, but he had a look of madness about him.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he announced, raising his glass, “To us! And the pursuit of…”

“Debauchery,” Astarion offered.

Vistri smirked.

They clinked and sipped. Gale excitedly took over the conversation with theories on mimicking the psychic link of a mind flayer. Another elixir was obviously out of the question. One would just cancel out the other. And they’d already ruled out the use of more than one scroll.

“—but what if it’s something we wear?!” he exclaimed, the punchline to his lecture.

“Well, I like it,” Astarion said in a high, breathy tone. Then tilted his head and lowered his voice for dramatic effect, “Question is: What should we enchant?”

Undergarments would be the most fun, but those would probably end up discarded, breaking the effect. Any sort of necklace or diadem was a bad idea for the same reason. So, they went with the most basic answer, a ring.

“Boring, but sort of perfect,” Vistri said, “In theme with our little get together—It reminds me of that ring Omeluum gave us, the Ring of Mind-shielding, but—”

“Ring of Mind-flayer,” Gale joked.

Vistri chuckled, “Exactly. I think it could be nostalgic. Don’t you agree, love?”

Astarion swallowed a gulp of… well, somebody’s blood, and set down his goblet to take hold of her reaching fingers.

He nodded, “The rings themselves make splendid gifts.”

“Party favors!”

“Yes, dear,” Astarion patted her hand, “Party favors.”

Gale chewed thoughtfully and hummed, getting ready to say something.

“Do you think everyone will be ready to turn into mind flayers? Even though we wouldn’t be actually turning into one—I mean, we worked so hard not to after all. Now we’re making it into a game.”

“A sex game,” Astarion clarified, just because Gale’s reaction was always priceless.

“With your brilliant ring idea, anyone can skip the mind flayer bits and still have a blast” Vistri said, “But that’s the draw of it for me, personally. I like to face my fears in the bedroom.

“Really puts the whole vampire companion into perspective,” Gale muttered into his wine.

“I think it has the potential to be quite healing, frankly,” Vistri went on, “You know: Take control of the thing we used to not be in control of.”

“And fuck it,” Astarion added.

“But not… At the party. Right?”

“No, Gale!” Vistri scoffed, “Do you tend to host orgies at your other family reunions?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, “But you both better remember that. I’ll have no illithids at the party proper! Not when it’s my turn to host.”

The first tenday was a disaster of failed attempts. Their unique shapeshifting spell was easier said than managed. The rings ended up being the simplest part. After all, it was just a stack of enchantments: Warding to connect the pair, mind reading, and a mix of charm and psionics for the transfer of sensation and feeling. Those only took time because they had to be bonded pairs. The elixir proved to be just as tricky as the scrolls, but after Gale remembered to enchant the mushrooms, they had something viable.

Just in time, they pulled it off. The only thing left to do before the party was to give the whole experience a test run.

[Read more: AO3 | Tumblr]

#vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #snippet saturday #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale of waterdeep #ten year fic #smut #lime #bg3 spoilers

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astrangergivingthestrangewelcome · 1 year

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The thing about Dracula I find fascinating, and this is really really hard for me to phrase. But like it's got some really bad themes right. Bran Stoker bought into some really bad ideas. There's a lot of hate. The societal fear driving the creation of Count Dracula is just fear of the Non-Western Other. It's unapologectic xenophobia and beyond the spooky scary vampire, the at worst fear and at best mockery Bram Stoker has for anyone not white and Christian and from The West is palpable in all the little parts of the novel. But he also clearly knew about love too. Like the reason Dracula is more than some racist trash, the reason we're all here is because Bram Stoker clearly knew how to love. He knew how to write people who loved eachother and he wanted to write about people who love eachother. In the end for many of us the love in the novel is enough to sustain us through the racist shit. It's something I still struggle with to know that someone can be so imperfect and so much full of love and prejudice and add a little creativity and you get a deeply flawed and utterly lovely peace of art. How was he so capable of both. How are we so capable of both. I don't know if I expressed myself.

#dracula daily #dracula

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nativehueofresolution · 8 months

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i support people's right to have fun with aus that don't completely line up with canon characterizations, but i personally have trouble getting into fics where armand chooses to let daniel die, because to me armand turning daniel is so inevitable.

in their early years of the cat and mouse chase, armand and daniel talk quite a bit about death (as well as every other topic under the sun), and it's clear that as much as armand thinks being a vampire is curse, he's terrified not only of dying, but of what comes after death.

much later on, during another one of their arguments where armand is attempting to convince daniel being a vampire is a terrible fate, he says he'd have killed himself by now if he weren't afraid of death.

while it communicates armand's unhappiness with immortality, it's also not a great argument to make if he's trying to dissuade daniel from wanting to be a vampire? he's saying 'i deeply hate this, but i still can't give it up, because the thought of what comes next is too terrifying'. he's actually validating daniel's belief that death is the worst fate possible even as he's trying to talk him into staying a mortal. if he can't fully convince himself to accept death, how can he convince daniel?

moreover, armand connects his relationship with daniel to the fact that he finally wants to live again - that he actually doesn't want the world to end, when before it wouldn't have mattered to him.

armand has at long last begun to enjoy living again after their time together, but without daniel? he wouldn't be able to go on. armand is not someone who can easily let things go, it's one of the reasons why he's responsible for a lot of his own misery. so no, he can't let daniel go - it's possibly the defining element of their relationship. he wouldn't let daniel go after they first met, he chased him across the globe. and he couldn't let daniel go when they were stuck in an on again/off again cycle. sure, he gave daniel the illusion of choice during their years on night island, letting him leave many times - but he kept track of him, ready to swoop in the moment daniel became desperate or incapacitated (as armand knew he would, because he'd systematically taken away daniel's independence and ability to care of himself while smothering him with affection, not to mention his awareness of daniel's addictions). his fear of someone else taking daniel away from him is why he gave him the amulet, why he attempted to give him the cushiest cage possible so he never ventured to the outside. all the while, armand and daniel have both convinced themselves that when push comes to shove, the historically selfish and impatient armand will keep to his sacred vow of not turning anyone, because he believes it's always a mistake. keep in mind, armand has already worked around this some in the past by compelling louis to turn madeline as part of his scheme to have them free to run off together. armand is keeping the letter of the vow, but we already know he can talk himself into workarounds if he thinks it's necessary to keep someone he loves.

the inherent contradiction of armand saying he values daniel's life more than his own, more than anything, but also resigning him to a fate he's terrified of is always present in the devil's minion. it sets a ticking clock in the relationship to see which part he means more, but to me there could really only be one answer with the levels of devotion, anxiety, and possessiveness daniel brings out in armand.

even when armand does let daniel go in a relational sense during their tva era break-up, armand specifically says that at that time daniel is alive and well, but has become disillusioned with armand. and that clearly hurts armand - he is obviously not well for a variety of reasons at the time he's dictating this - but he will cope with losing daniel's love if daniel is alive to resent him, healthy, traveling again (notice how like all of these are not really true for long, if they ever were at all, but they're one of the many lies armand is forcing himself to believe he can attempt to build a new life). that's why i think even if daniel did somehow have a change of heart and say he accepted his death, what would actually follow is armand would eventually realize just how much of a hypocrite he is - that no matter how important he said this vow was to him, no matter how much he'd been trying to convince daniel to accept mortality, when push came to shove armand would not be able to go through with it. even if daniel no longer wanted it, he would choose to blow up their relationship and turn him (which really is basically what he already views himself as doing in canon). he would keep daniel, in whatever way he could, even if it destroyed them, and obliterated armand's fragile sense individuality and one moral rule. he couldn't do anything else.

#devil's minion #iwtv #like yes armand had to make his choice then and there but if he'd had more time i genuinely don't think it would have changed anything #except he would have agonized over it more #idk how much in the amc series daniel brushing off louis's offer is meant to be taken seriously. it seemed to be a bit of a mind game #but if daniel did conceivably change his mind after living several decades (and possibly missing quite a bit of his memories)#i think what would follow next is armand having a complete breakdown as he realizes the full extent of his hypocrisy and self delusion #as he tries to make the very same arguments he used to dismiss coming from daniel #everything's changed but nothing has. if you get it you get it #now daniel dying because armand couldn't find him in time after he left and started spiraling. that i can easily imagine #kaitlin speaks

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fuckmeyer · 7 months

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HEY i'm having unhinged carlisle/edward thoughts again and i had to come into your inbox to share them because YOU DID THIS TO ME--

but truly. like. the bond between creator and created. (this may or may not have been inspired by a conversation with su-angelvicioso about yknow. a different ship) the creator recognizes themself in the created, the created knows the creator because they were shaped so fundamentally by them...so any time they're looking at the other person they're seeing themself, but also any time they see themself they're seeing the other...there's no way to define yourself except in the differences and similarities you have to this person who you know more intimately than anyone else in the world, except really your view of them will ALWAYS be distorted by your view of yourself...like!!!!

edward thinks carlisle is perfect because he thinks of himself as a monster. carlisle thinks edward is the best of all of them, the reason to believe vampires have souls, because it's the only way for him NOT to believe he himself is a monster!!! edward hates and fears carlisle for being a standard he can never measure up to, but he loves him because he is that standard, and he keeps forgiving him...but maybe actually the forgiveness just makes him hate carlisle MORE because edward doesn't WANT to be forgiven!!! carlisle thinks of edward as his own redemption, but that means he'll never actually fully see edward and he can't actually forgive him in a meaningful way!!! they're obsessed with each other, but neither one of them can actually express that to the other!!!!!!! holy FUCK they're a MESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(sorry this is not even a question, my brain is just scrambled eggs about them now apparently)

THIS IS IT I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE SPACE TO TALK ABOUT CARLWARD I SWEAR I AM GOING A LITTLE FERAL OVER THIS SHIP? FORGIVE ME THIS ASK SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE POIGNANT BUT IM JUST GONNA SAY STUFF OK

THE BOND BETWEEN CREATOR AND CREATED!!!! YES!!!!!!!

the creator recognizes themself in the created, the created knows the creator because they were shaped so fundamentally by them. [...] your view of them will ALWAYS be distorted by your view of yourself

and isn't it just so beautiful when we put Carlisle & Edward's canon relationship in this context! i wrote this in another post but:

Carlisle believes Heaven exists because of Edward.

Heaven is not a place for the damned creatures like vampires, but a place for humanity.

which means!!!! Carlisle has chosen to see his own humanity in his son. for all it entails. its light, its shadows, all the shades of gray in between. and, yes!, the scary thing is, this is the only way Carlisle can believe he himself is not a monster - to see his progeny thrive within Carlisle's philosophy.

but the beautiful thing is he accepts Edward. he loves Edward. always. no matter what. & this is what allows him to participate in society, to take the Hippocratic Oath, to live a life of vegetarianism: Carlisle loves humanity in all its forms, BECAUSE OF AND IN SPITE OF EDWARD.

and Edward!!! Edward is the physical manifestation of Carlisle's beliefs. for better or worse. on the surface, Edward is a vegetarian vampire, med school grad, etc., and who wants to believe in the value of human life. (he doesn't always live up to this in day-to-day interactions obvi.)

on a deeper level, he has grappled with questions re: humanity, especially his place within his preconceived idea of Humanity. he considers himself damned, just as Carlisle does. (perhaps, even, the darkest part of Carlisle doubts the existence of his own soul.) he spends the entire series rebelling against the idea of his soul & his worthiness of love while battling his own monstrous nature.

but unlike Carlisle, Edward has actually gone out and tested these ideas. can i still have a soul if i'm a vampire? can i still be human if i kill bad people? can i still be human if i take away life? can i still be human if i do x, think y, say z?

because Carlisle doesn't necessarily have the space to do what Edward did. not just because of his busy schedule as a doctor, but his coping mechanisms, his compartmentalization required to live this vegetarian life, his religion (/religious trauma?), & his position as a coven leader do not afford him the luxury of testing these ideas himself.

at the end of the day, Carlisle can never do what Edward did. if Carlisle is going to 'save' other vampires, he needs to be (at least outwardly) secure in the notion that he has saved himself. even if he isn't.

Edward can go further, dig deeper, and that allows Carlisle to go further, too.

and in that context, god, how beautiful is it that Carlisle just has this unwavering, unconditional acceptance of Edward? that through the darkness and mistakes, there is something worth loving? that through this acceptance, Edward finds his soul in the end?

like, the breakdown of the relationship is:

to Edward, Carlisle is a god.

to Carlisle, Edward is a man, i.e., a disciple of his teachings.

& in that context, how beautiful is it that, baseline, Carlisle & Edward share this deep, spiritual love for each other that will never be broken? FUCK that hits

#carlisle x edward #twilight meta #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight renaissance #twilight #the twilight saga

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scotianostra · 1 month

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On 27th March 1625, King James VI died.

James Charles Stuart has many facts, myths and urban legends surrounding him, this is just one of them.

Rumours have abounded for centuries that James was a homosexual, I'm not saying he wasn't but at very least you might call him bisexual, he did after all father seven children to his wife, only three of whom survived. Known for writing poetry, there is little doubt he loved his wife, Anne, and wrote many poems and love letters to her throughout their marriage. Most of the rumors of James’ sexual orientation came from Sir Anthony Weldon, who was a bitter enemy of the king, whose writings were published long after James was dead.

One of the most amusing quotes from King James regarding marriage and women was when, at the Hampton Court Conference, the Puritan leaders complained of a line in English wedding vows where the groom says to bride “with my body, I thee worship.” James’ response was “If you had a good wife yourself, you would think all worship and honour you could do her, were well bestowed upon her.”

James supposed lover was George Villiers was a courtier who became a favourite of King James I. The King became infatuated with him and made him Viscount in 1616, Earl in 1617, Marquis in 1618 and Duke of Buckingham in 1623. Outmanoeuvring his rivals the Howards, Villiers was appointed Lord High Admiral in 1619. He manipulated the lovestruck King James to gain unprecedented control over royal patronage, rewarding himself and his family generously. He married his relations into the most important families in England. His own marriage was to Lady Catherine Manners, only daughter of the wealthy Earl of Rutland. Was their friendship more than platonic? To coin a Scottish phrase, "

Mibbes aye mibbes naw."

James had a deep and terrible fear of witchcraft and personally oversaw many witch trials while ruling in Scotland. He saw witchcraft as a branch of theology and even wrote a famous treatise titled Daemonologie, in which he dealt with sorcery, magic, and even vampires and werewolves!

James had a relatively peaceful reign, except for the infamous Gunpowder Plot, and kept taxes low. He was known as both the British Solomon and was called “the wisest fool in Christendom” by the King of France. James was both a brute and a gentleman, a sloth and a scholar, a boor and a poet, paranoid and cunning.

Perhaps we should look at his mother's French Emissary Monsieur de Fontenay who had the following to say regarding the young James’ character and traits:

“I have been well received by the king, who has treated me better in reality than in appearance. He give me much credit, but does not show me much kindness. Since the day of my arrival he has ordered me to live in his house along with the earls and lords, and that I shall have access to him in his cabinet just as the others have… .

To tell you truly what I think of him – I consider him the first prince in the world for his age. … . He apprehends and conceives quickly, he judges ripely and with reason, and he retains much and for a long time. In questioning he is quick and piercing, and solid in his answers. … He is learned in many languages, sciences, and affairs of state. more so than probably anyone in his realm. In a word he has a miraculous wit, and moreover is full of noble glory and a good opinion of himself.

Having been brought up in the midst of constant fears, he is timid and will not venture to contradict the great lords; yet he wishes to be thought brave.

He hates dancing and music in general and especially all the mincing affectations of the court … .

From want of proper instruction his manners are boorish and very rough, as well in his way of speaking, eating. dress, amusements and conversation, even in the company of women.

He is never at rest in one place but takes a singular pleasure in walking; but his gait is very ungainly and his step is wandering and unsteady, even in a room. His voice is thick and very deep as he speaks. … He is weak of body … But to sum up, he is an old young man. …

He misunderstands the real extent of his poverty and weakness; he boasts too much of himself and he despises other princes. In the second place, he disregards the wishes of his subjects; and lastly, he is too idle and careless in business and too much addicted to his own pleasures, chiefly hunting. … He told me that he really gave greater attention to business than he seemed to do for he could get through more work in one hour than others could in a day. …"

James ruled Scotland as James VI from 24th July 1567 and, as you might recall from my post a few days ago, ruled in England, Wales and Ireland as James 1st from 24th March, 1603. He died 27th March, 1625 at Theobalds House, and his remains lie in the Henry VII Lady Chapel in Westminster Abbey.

The third pic shows James's body next to Henry VII and his queen in the vault

#scotland #scottish #history #royalty #the stuarts

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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

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Such a Softer Sin (Part 3)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: I’m not specifically tagging this one, if you’ve seen the show, nothing will shock you. Smut will happen eventually so minors DNI, thanks.

A/N: Big thanks to @blanchedelioncourt for being my beta reader for this story (ily bby). Also, thanks for all the love for this story so far, you guys are amazing!

—-----------

You, Atticus and Kosmos sat in your chairs facing the Council. The room was rather large and pretty bare, adored mostly in white with hints of red and gold here and there. The only thing in the room was a large wooden table you were sitting at. You were sandwiched between your boys and the Council sat opposite. All of them with gray hair and facial hair to some varying degree on their faces. You couldn't help but picture the King looking the same. Old and pompous. An asshole. Maybe that was unfair, he did after all make your pack a legitimate one when Kosmos went to see him. Kosmos had said he was shocked by how nice he was to him, but still, the Council was chosen by the King and they were very prejudiced. You couldn't help but fear the King after all the tales you’d heard. He hated rogues, and with good reasons. You hated them too after what they did to your old pack. You despised being painted with the same brush as those rogues, your pack was nothing like those savages. But the King was known to loath rogues, to the point that if he found one trespassing near his lands, he’d kill them, swiping their head clean off their shoulders and literally putting it on a stick and placing it in the front on his lands as a warning to the rogues. If that didn’t say insane, you didn't know what did. Then again, with your kill count, could you really judge anyone?

“Welcome, Alpha. I trust your journey went well?” the middle man spoke, you didn't remember his name. You cared that little about these men, you never cared to learn them.

“It did. Although we were hoping to rest up a little before the meeting,” Kosmos spoke up firmly. His carefree attitude was gone and replaced by a cold face, his Alpha energy pushing outwards. You could see how the Council men were struggling with it, after all, they weren't Alphas. It made you inwardly smirk.

“We apologize, but we wanted the meeting as quick as we could. It's of grave importance,” one of the other men said. That made you sit up straighter, just what the hell did they want this time? Kosmos stayed silent, quirking his brow waiting for them to elaborate. The Council looked somewhat tenser than usual and it didn't make you feel any better.

“The original job we had for you is no longer important. More urgent matters have arisen and the King himself has requested a favor of you,” the middle man spoke again. Well shit, the King himself asked this one. You felt nerves bloom in your belly and you knew Atticus felt it when he took your hand in his and held it tightly, looking out for you just as he always had.

“What is it?” Atticus spoke up. Just like Kosmos, he was no longer cheeky and witty. His eyes were sharp and focused, back straight as he looked right at the men unwavering.

“I’m sure you've heard talk about the vampires?” the man on the left piped up curiously.

“We’ve heard some talk around, yes. People think a war is coming,” you said. Your voice was strong, carrying through the large room. Inside you were shitting yourself about what this might be but outwardly you were calm and emotionless.

“You heard right. What's more is… Rogues, the real rogues have sided with them,” the middle man said. The way he worded ‘real rogues’ made you bristle, like it wasn't his choice of words and he felt uncomfortable saying it. Your eyes narrowed slightly at him and he looked away, you tried not to smirk at how you intimidated him. Out of all of them, you had the worst reputation when it came to your fighting. They didn't call you The Dancer of Death for no reason. Your kill count was higher than Kosmos’ and Atticus’ combined.

“That's ridiculous. Rogues don't take orders or work for anyone,” Atticus scoffed disbelievingly.

“Usually yes, but they are gaining something from this. They want the Kingdom to fall. They want to ruin the hierarchy, they want anarchy. Siding with the vampires means wiping us out. They get what they want,” the man on the left explained.

You hated how it made sense and it only made you uneasy. Rogues were bastards and ruthless and so were the vampires, having them team up meant they had more numbers. Shit just got real.

“How do we fit into this?” Kosmos asked impatiently. You knew the news hadn't sat well with him. A war would mean your pack was at risk and your small numbers only made it worse. You were an easy target.

“King William has a proposition for you,” the middle man said vaguely. You rolled your eyes and couldn't stop your mouth from opening.

“Which is?” you asked, attitude dripping of your words. Atticus squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“He wants the Nomad pack on his side. We all know what good fighters you all are. He wants your pack to move into the castle grounds, you'll all receive the training of the Royal Warriors. He wants you to pledge your loyalty to him in this war and fight by his side,” the middle man elaborated. It felt like the air in the room just got sucked out and you held your breath. You felt conflicted. On one hand, you felt pride swelling in your chest that the King had such faith in your pack that he wanted them here, wanted them in the castle grounds and to give them real training. But on the other hand you’d be putting the pack at risk by having them all at the front of the war.

‘What do you think?’ Kosmos minlinked them. Atticus’ thumb was rubbing circles on your hand as you all glanced at each other, clearly having a private moment to discuss it.

‘I’m not sure. They’re asking a lot from us but we’d be here which is safer and with more numbers,’ Atticus replied.

“I agree. Also, we’d be in the war no matter what happens. The rogues and vamps would target us first no doubt. At least here we'd be protected,’ You added. You knew Kosmos was uncomfortable with making this choice. Usually every pack member got to vote and it was clear the men wanted an answer right now. He never liked making choices without everyone saying it was okay.

“What do we get out of this?” Kosmos asked out loud, looking right at the middle man with cold eyes.

“For one, you get protection. You have what, 21 pack members? That's a risk. You get to train with the Elite Warriors. You will have access to all the food and weapons you wish, use of our expert medical facility,” the man replied and you instantly perked up.

‘Leanna,’ you mindlinked them urgently. You didn’t need to elaborate, they'd know what you meant.

“We have a pack member who's pregnant, she lost her last baby last year. She went into labor too early and our medical supplies weren’t enough and we have no real pack doctor. Will she get care here?” Kosmos asked firmly. The loss of the pup had been hard for the whole pack. The pup was the first ever to be born in the Nomad pack and it was a symbol of a new generation for you all. Because of your nature of being misfits and lost, most of the pack members were unmated. There were a couple who had come with their mates and Leanna had been the only one to find her mate upon arriving. It had been Damon, your lead warrior. When she gave birth too early and the baby died, the whole pack had mourned deeply for months. It had been a big blow for all of you to lose your first ever pup. If she was able to get real care here and this new baby would survive, you all knew the rest of the pack would approve of this deal no matter what.

“Of course. We have specialty doctors for things like that, she and the baby would be well looked after, I assure you,” the man on the right said. You were shocked to see his eyes soften a little at the mention of what happened. It was clear the baby and Leanna meant a lot to you all. Maybe they were realizing you weren’t as coldhearted as everyone seemed to think you were.

‘Guys?’ Kosmos asked unsure through the mindlink. You knew he was still uncomfortable making this call himself.

‘I think we should do it. Leanna needs the care, Kos. We can't lose another pup, I don't know if the pack would recover from another loss,’ you replied softly.

‘I think we should too. The pack will understand,’ Atticus agreed. You could feel Kosmos’ nervous energy through your link, could feel his guilt and overwhelming grief. He’d really taken the loss of the pup to heart. He was Alpha and he felt like it was his fault, like he’d failed the baby and his parents. You were honestly worried about his mental state if you lost another baby.

“Okay, we accept,” Kosmos said with a nod. The men looked pleased and somewhat relieved as they smiled. You were sure you’d never seen them actually smile before and you wondered if they’d been worried about the King’s reaction if they said no.

“Good, we knew you'd make the right choice. The dinner with the King and his men will be a celebratory dinner. It will be at 6 pm, so you can rest and then freshen up before then. We’ll have some clothes sent up to your rooms for you. Your pack will move here before the end of the week,” the man in the middle explained. You didn't miss how they mentioned the dinner with the King was a celebration. It irked you a little since you'd already been invited to the dinner, it was like they presumed you'd say yes and planned it anyway.

“That's fine with us. Thank you for your time,” Kosmos said, sounding all business.

“Azalea will show you to your rooms, she’s waiting just outside,” the man on the left said. With a nod, you all stood up and you couldn't get out of there quick enough.

Sure enough, the maid from before was standing there patiently waiting and gave you all somewhat nervous smiles.

“I’ll show you to your rooms for the night, please follow me,” she said politely. You smiled back at her, hoping to put her at ease. She seemed terrified around you and as much as you thrived off that when it came to people you needed to intimidate, you didn't need the poor maid pissing herself in your presence. It didn't take long to walk upstairs and through the hallways before you were shown to some rooms. She stopped by two that were side by side.

“These are the Beta’s and Gamma’s rooms, I hope they'll be to your liking. Alpha, if you follow me, I'll show you to your room,” Azalea smiled. It was hardly unheard of that the Alpha’s rooms were far more luxurious and bigger than the others but you and Atticus had no intention of staying in the rooms given to you.

“They’ll be staying with me in my room. These rooms aren’t necessary,” Kosmos said softly. It seemed he was also trying not to frighten her, his voice sounded weird instead of his usual rough tone. Like he was talking to a spooked child.

“Oh… a-are you sure, Alpha?” she asked, confused. He just nodded so she bowed her head and led you further down the hallway. Of course it was weird to others, the three of you cramped in one room, but it was how it always was for you three. Your pack house was small and people had to share rooms. From the moment you and Atticus found Kosmos, you’d slept in the same room, or cave as it was at the time. Back at home, you shared a room there too, you felt safer with each other that way. It was a sort of comfort. You’d never slept away from each other before except the few times Kosmos had been away for business on his own or without one of you. The maid opened the door and revealed a large room that was decorated in red and black. The bed was queen sized and the carpets were lush and black. Off to the side was an open door, revealing a cream and gold bathroom. It was all so fancy and you and Atticus shared a look. You weren’t used to this at home by any means. You had one shower you all had to use and it ran off rainwater.

“If you need anything, just press that button near the door and I’ll come right away. Dinner is at 6 pm and I’ll bring you the clothes provided by the Council,” the maid said as she walked to the door with a slight bow of her head.

“Thank you, Azalea,” you smiled. The girl looked somewhat shocked at your thanks and it annoyed you. People should thank her more often for what she did. The young girl grinned at you before slipping out of the room.

“Alright… Nap time!” Atticus grinned as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. You snorted as you glanced around at the fancy furnishings whilst Atticus tugged off his boots and flopped onto the large soft bed. Kosmos poked at a fancy statue on the bedside table like it was some alien object that might attack him. You took your boots off, setting them neatly by the bed as you climbed on in the middle, the bed was big enough to fit all three of you. At home you didn't even have a bed, you had a pile of cushions and blankets you slept in. You let the other members have the beds.

“Oh… this is comfy,” you smiled sleepily as you snuggled inside the fluffy blanket.

“Mmm, like a cloud,” Atticus murmured as he rolled onto his side facing you. Kosmos shuffled around for a bit and you presumed he was taking his shoes off too. The bed dipped when his large frame got in on your other side. Anyone would think you were all weird sharing a bed like this, like you were in some kind of strange three way relationship. Such a scandal. Really though, you were just three damaged souls that found comfort in one another. You might be tough and grown up now but inside you were all still scared children that needed affection and comfort. It didn't take long for you to slip off into a peaceful sleep surrounded by the scent and touch of your boys, making your brain know you were safe.

When you woke up, Kosmos was gone. You could hear the shower running and presumed he was in there. Atticus was still snoring away and you smirked to yourself as you watched him, his mouth slightly agape as he snored softly. You wanted to flick his nose but decided against it, letting him sleep. You climbed out of bed with a slight groan and stretched. The clock read 4 pm and you had some time to kill. The clothes weren’t there yet and you were bored, you always had to be doing something. You weren't one to sit there and just do nothing. You decided to go and have a wander around the castle, they often had large fancy paintings and ornaments that you enjoyed looking at. They were all really old and you enjoyed soaking it all in, it was one of the things you loved about the castle. You slipped your boots back on, sending a quick mindlink to Kosmos to tell him you were going for a wander. He told you to be careful and then you left the room. You wandered around the long hallways, stopping to look at some of the paintings you enjoyed. Some of them were pretty oil paintings of lush landscapes, vibrant flowers scattered across them with a bright blue sky. There was another of a jet black wolf with glowing silver eyes. When you turned a corner, you stood there for a moment. There was a large stained glass window, depicting some kind of story about a wolf and a war. You started walking, eyes glued upwards to it and how the light filtered through, casting the hallway in a glow of red and gold. It was beautiful. You were trying to piece together the story of the panels, not realizing that your distraction was causing you to veer off path. It wasn't until your hip bumped into a table and the sound of shattering hit your ears that you were snapped out of your trance. Your eyes stared down at the shattered vase and your heart hammered away.

“Oh no. Oh fuckity fuck fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees as you picked up one of the many many many pieces. It was an old vase, it looked almost Greek. This was the last thing you needed.

“Oh shit,” you whined to yourself, glaring at the pieces. You didn't even see anyone else in the hallway until someone crouched in front of you. You glanced up, blinking slowly at the man.

“Looks like you've made a bit of a mess,” he grinned mischievously at you. He was fucking breathtaking. He had dark hair and even darker eyes, dressed in deep red pants and a cream and gold jacket. You had no idea what rank he held here, no idea how the uniform system worked, but he exuded power. You wondered if he was one of the guards or warriors.

“Do you think it can be glued back together?” you asked softly, tearing your eyes away from his angelic face as you stared at the broken vase forlornly. You were going to be in deep shit for this. He picked up one of the pieces that was absolutely tiny, flashing you a wry grin.

“I don't think there's any savin’ this one, sweetheart,” he said with a snort. You pouted, closing your eyes and you blew out a breath.

“I’m in so much trouble. After the whole King statue decapitation, the Council’s gonna string me up,” you huffed.

“That was you?” he asked with a light laugh. You glanced at him then, noticing how he looked more than amused and your cheeks flushed.

“You heard about that then?” you asked, your lips tugging up slightly.

“Everyone heard about that,” he replied with a smirk.

“In my defense, it was an accident. And it clearly wasn't made with a good sturdy material since it broke so easy,” you muttered almost childishly. He chuckled and the sound was smooth, making your tummy flutter slightly.

“You're right about that. Besides, I have it on good authority that the King didn’t care too much for that one,” he said with an impish grin.

“Really? The Council told me he’d cut my hands off. I’m sure he will now I've broken this too,” you said as you nibbled your lip. You were genuinely worried about how the King would handle you breaking something of his yet again and your heart was hammering away.

“You really think he’d cut your hands off?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Of course he would. Haven't you heard the stories about him? He’s scary and I’m over here just breaking his old fancy antiques. It's not like he can just replace them,” you replied. You glanced at him as he furrowed his brow a little and you wondered why he seemed somewhat disappointed or annoyed at your statement.

“Y/N! What have you done?” the voice made you tense, looking over the man's shoulder. It was the Council man from the middle, who still had no name. He was looking at you horrified and your face paled. You jumped when the handsome man in front of you patted your knee before standing. The Council man's eyes widened and he bowed his head and you couldn't look away, looking confused.

“Y-Your Majesty, I didn't see you there,” the Council man muttered. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He was the King. The fucking King! You’d just been saying how scary the King is, he’d seen you break something of his and confessed to the statue. You were dead. So fucking dead. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

“It’s alright, Viktor. This was my fault, Y/N was just helpin’ me,” the King said smoothly. You blinked dumbly, still knelt on the floor by the broken vase. You had no idea why he was lying for you. The Councilman, Viktor apparently, nodded, the movement jerky. He looked ready to shit himself.

“Right… well then. You can leave it there, Your Majesty. Y/N can pick up the pieces and-” the man started.

“Why would she do that? You do realize we pay people like the staff to do that sort of thing? She’s a guest, not a maid,” despite the teasing smile on his lips, the tone of his voice was firm and commanding, making it clear to Viktor not to argue with him. The Councilman looked stunned but nodded and you smirked inwardly that he’d defended you.

“Of course. I'll send for a maid right away,” the man bowed and scurried off like he couldn't get away quick enough. But then the King looked back at you and you felt like you might have a heart attack. This was the King. He wasn't old and gray like you thought he was. He looked majestic and ethereal with his beauty and you’d just been talking about him to him. Not only that, but you were still considered a rogue by some people. He hated rogues. You were confused and scared all rolled into one. He walked over, offering you a hand. You wasted no time in taking it and letting him help you up. One wrong move and he might snap your neck.

“Um… Thank you. And sorry, I didn't mean to break the vase and all of that. I really should be going now,” you rambled nervously before trying to run off. He gripped your wrist though and your heart stilled completely as you turned to face him. He had an amused smile on his face.

“You don't needta run off, Y/N. You're not in trouble, honestly. That vase wasn't even mine,” he smirked, as if he knew what you were thinking. It did ease you somewhat but there was still the other issue you were worried about. Apparently his presence turned you into such a mess, you didn't seem to have any control of your mouth.

“I’m a rogue… I mean… I’m from the Nomad pack. And I know you don’t like me and I'd rather not get into trouble and-” you started, eyes wide and spooked as your heart beat so fast it felt like it might burst through your rib cage and run away.

“The Dancer of Death,” he murmured breathlessly, looking somewhat awed by you. It was jarring to say the least, to have the Demigod Lycan King look at you that way. It made you feel like jello.

“That’s me,” you squeaked lamely. He looked you over like he was appraising you and you felt your cheeks heat up. It wasn't a lustful gaze that you’d received off many men. You wondered if he was assessing how such a woman was capable of such things he’d no doubt heard of. Most of it was embellished though if you were honest. People like to do things for dramatic effect.

“Well, Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you. I’m Billy,” he smiled brightly at you. You felt like the breath in your lungs had been stolen with that smile. Pearly white teeth and pointy canines on display. How was this the same man you’d heard all the tales of? Billy… it was such a soft boyish name compared to William and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The pleasure’s all mine,” you smiled shyly as you bowed your head.

“Billy. You don't need to call me by my title,” he murmured with a slight frown. You swallowed thickly, still confused why he was being nice or giving you the time of day. You felt on edge and wanted to run and hide in your room.

“Isn't that… inappropriate?” you asked carefully with wide eyes. He snorted softly and his thumb stroked your wrist, you hadn't even noticed he was still holding it.

“Maybe, but I don't really care. When it's just us, call me Billy… Please,” he murmured softly. His almost black eyes were almost pleading with you and you wondered if you were still asleep in the comfy bed and having some weird dream.

“Okay… Billy,” you said, testing it out. His lips curled into a grin that made your heart skip a beat and you found yourself smiling back.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Y/N,” he smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth as he placed a soft kiss on top of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You just stared at him with wide eyes, all you could do was nod as he released your hand and started to walk away.

You stayed glued to the floor for a while until the maid came to clean up the vase. It was Azalea. She gave you a shy smile, a dustpan and broom in her hands as she got to work getting rid of the mess you made, yet you still stayed rooted to the floor, looking down the hallway that the King had gone through.

“Are you alright, Beta Y/N?” she asked softly after a few curious glances. You snapped out of your trance then and nodded, shaking your head at yourself.

“Yeah, I’m good…. Do you need any help?” you asked her, trying to get your brain back in gear.

“Oh no, I’m okay, thank you,” she murmured in reply. She was almost done anyway as she swept the last of the broken pieces up into the dustpan.

“You’ve met the King, right? I mean, you work for him,” you asked curiously and she nodded. You noticed that she never gave you eye contact and you weren't sure if that was part of her job or simply because you were a Beta in a pack known to be pretty savage.

“Of course, why do you ask?” she asked timidly. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder, down the hall to the door the King had gone through before back to her.

“Is he… nice?” you asked, sounding confused. You just couldn't wrap your head around your interaction with him. You’d heard all of the stories of him and while you knew him to be just and fair, he was also pretty scary. You knew it was a little hypocritical, you knew the same could be said about you with some of the stories floating around. Most people probably thought you were an unhinged psychopath. You just hadn’t expected him to be so nice, so caring. So… soft.

“King William is a wonderful King,” she answered, giving you a smile and you tilted your head, eyes narrowed in a way that made her swallow thickly and avert her eyes all together. You weren’t sure if that was a rehearsed response or not. You stepped a little closer to her and she tensed up.

“You don’t need to lie to me, I won’t tell. I just… I just met him and he wasn’t what I expected,” you said softly, trying to put her at ease. Her eyes finally met yours then and she relaxed a little.

“He’s a very good King. He takes care of his staff, he makes sure we’re all happy and okay. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about him and most of it is true. He’s the King after all and sometimes he has to do things that are a little… unsavory. But he loves his people and he’s a good King,” she said, sounding more sure than you’d heard since you met her. You nodded, nibbling your lower lip a little, coming to the conclusion that he seemed to have many layers to him, much like you and your pack did. Still, you couldn't shake your interaction with him, something niggling in the back of your head that you couldn’t quite make out.

After saying your goodbyes to her, you headed back to your room, your mind feeling like it was moving through molasses as it replayed the interaction over and over again. When you got to the room, Atticus was sitting on the bed, Kosmos holding up an outfit you knew he’d never wear anywhere else.

“Wow, that’s pretty fancy,” you remarked wryly as you walked in, earning a dirty look from Kosmos. To be fair, the only thing fancy about it was the jacket. The pants were black and tunic white, not much different to what he would usually wear. The jacket however was a pale blue with gold trim, the material looking far more luxurious than your normal clothes.

“Just wait to see what you’re supposed to wear,” Atticus grinned cheekily and your smile melted off your face. He pointed to something hung up on the bathroom door and you deflated, a loud groan leaving your lips.

“No,” you whined pitfully, moving over to the bed as you flopped onto it ungracefully.

“It’s just a dress, Y/N,” Kosmos snorted, a teasing tone to his voice letting you know he was enjoying the karma you were currently receiving.

“I don’t do dresses,” you bit out. You couldn't even remember the last time you’d worn a dress, maybe when you were a small child at some kind of pack occasion. You’d never been into dresses, always out playing in the dirt with Atticus. This dress was something a nobel woman would wear, not a fighter. It was floor length and the same pale blue as Kosmos' outfit and no doubt Atticus’ too. There was a large strip down the center of it that was a pretty white fabric with gold flowers and swirls all over it, blue laces across the front to cinch in the waist. The sleeves flared out quite a bit too at the end, creating a flared look. It wasn’t just a dress, it was a pretty dress and you really didn’t want to wear it.

“Oh come on, you’ll look amazing. The King sent it himself apparently,” Atticus murmured, nudging you a little. You groaned again, sitting up before glaring at the dress and wiping a hand over your face.

“I met the King,” you blurted, making them both look at you.

“Well, how did it go?” Atticus asked when you didn’t elaborate. You stood up, walking over to the dress and you rubbed the silky fabric between your fingers and then turned to look at both of them.

“I broke a vase…” you started, making Atticus laugh loudly and Kosmos shook his head, not looking surprised.

“Of course you did,” Atticus smirked and you leveled a look at him.

“It gets worse,” you huffed.

“What did you do?” Kosmos asked, sounding wary.

“I broke the vase and then the most beautiful man to exist appeared. We were talking and I was going on and on about how the King would kill me for this after the whole statue thing. He seemed amused, he was pretty nice. And then a Councilman came,” you murmured, folding your arms over your chest.

“Turns out, the guy I was talking to was the King. Obviously, I shit myself. I didn’t know how he’d react to me breaking yet another thing of his and the whole rogue pack thing, but he was pretty nice. Put Viktor in his place when he expected me to clean up the vase,” you smirked a little at that and so did the boys.

“I told you he was nice,” Kosmos pointed out with a raised brow.

“I know you did but it’s hard to really see the guy as the same one we know all the stories about. He was just… normal. He even told me to call him Billy when we were alone,” you frowned in confusion. Kosmos’ brows rose at that and Atticus smiled so wide you were surprised his face didn’t split it half.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” he laughed gleefully, jumping to his feet.

“What?” you asked slowly, looking to Kosmos who looked just as confused as you.

“He likes you!” Atticus beamed as he walked over, looking like a kid who just got their favorite toy.

“He likes me?” you asked with a snort.

“Of course he does. Maybe he is a nice guy and maybe he’s a good King that treats his people well, but asking you to call him by his first name, a nickname? I mean, did he tell you to call him Billy?” He asked as he looked at Kosmos who shook his head.

“See! I mean, you have heard about him, right?” Aittucus asked as he wiggled his brows at you. You really wanted to throttle him.

“You mean the stories where he’s putting heads on sticks or ripping beating hearts out of chests?” you asked sardonically and he rolled his eyes, swinging an arm around your shoulder and jostling you a little.

“Not those ones. The story goes that he hasn’t found his mate yet. Some people think he doesn't even have one since he's the Demigod Lycan King and all, but he's attractive, has tons of power. Women flock to him in waves and naturally, he takes his pick sometimes. And it seems he's picked you,” he grinned and you shoved him away from you, making him laugh.

“Stop talking out of your ass,” you huffed, you hardly expected the King of all people to take an interest in you like that.

“I’m not! He wants to get in your pants… or under your dress, as it were,” he smirked impishly as he gestured to the dress hanging up.

“That’s enough, Atti!” Kosmos muttered with a stony glare as he stood up.

“What? Are you telling me I’m wrong?” Atticus huffed.

“I don’t know if you're right or wrong, but none of it matters. Y/N getting tangled with the King is the last thing we want with a war coming,” Kosmos said firmly.

“I’m not getting tangled with the King!” you protested, giving them both a dirty look.

“It’s not like that, okay? When I told him I’m from the Nomad pack, he instantly knew who I was and he seemed impressed. Maybe he respects me or something, I don’t know. Just drop it,” you glared at Atticus mainly since he was the one being an idiot. He rolled his eyes again and held his hands up in surrender.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave it,” he pouted.

You relaxed a little now he’d let go of the absurd notion of the King wanting you in his bed. Even if he did for some unknown reason, you weren’t interested. Sure, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met, but you were saving yourself for your mate. If you’d ever find him that was. You had to admit, you didn’t care too much. You’d been through a lot of trauma in your life and you were happy with your pack, happy with Atticus and Kosmos. You didn’t long for a mate like some people you knew, maybe you’d just been through too much. Maybe your mate had been from your old pack and now they were dead, you really didn’t know. Either way, you weren’t interested in casual hook ups. There were far more important and terrifying things on the horizon, like a war with the vampires and rogues, to bother with such things. You needed to keep your head in the game.

“Alright, now if we’re done with the childish bullshit, we need to get ready for dinner. We're going to be late,” Kosmos sighed, looking at you both. You scrunched your face up as you looked over to the dress again.

“Fine, but I hope they don't expect me to wear a dress all the time. That’s not happening,” you scowled.

“Maybe you could put a word in with the King since you're all buddy buddy now,” Atticus grinned as he grabbed his own outfit that matched Kosmos’. The only difference being there was less gold trim and you had a feeling it was a rank thing. Kosmos thwacked him around the head and he yelped before laughing, running off to the bathroom with his clothes.

“Don’t let him get to you, you know how he is,” Kosmos murmured as you grabbed the dress from the door.

“A small child trapped in an adult's body? Yeah, I know,” you snorted, giving him a rueful look. It didn’t bother you really, although you hoped he wouldn’t tease such a thing in front of the King. That would be embarrassing. You really weren’t looking forward to the dinner and you had no idea who would be there. You had a sinking feeling that the Council would be there which would just sour the whole thing entirely. The King was nice enough so you didn’t have to worry about him too much anymore but you’d never met his men, no idea what they were like. You knew you’d soon find out. Moving to the castle would be a big change for the pack and you felt a little upside down about it all. You loved your pack, loved the packhouse even if it was small and only had the bare necessities. You liked the quiet life out of the way where you all just got on with it, doing jobs when you needed to for food or weapons. But things were changing now, it wouldn't be the same. You’d all be here with all of the King’s men and warriors, maybe even with other packs if he brought them in too. It would be far more people than you were used to. You were looking forward to the training though. You were all self taught, no formal or official training whatsoever. You were curious what you might learn here. You knew the only reason you'd accepted the King’s offer was for the safety of the pack. Not only would being here offer good medical care and all your needs would be taken care of, but it also meant safety in numbers. The pack already had a target on its back with the enemies you’d made and you knew you’d be the first to get hit in the war. You were all ruthless, you especially, but there was only so much you could do. Against the vampires and rogues? You weren't sure how you'd all fair but you didn’t think it’d be pretty. You knew you had to suck up your reservations about being here for the rest of your people, to keep them safe. All of them could fight but they weren’t all fighters and this meant the others would be safe from harm and out of the way. You really weren’t sure how all of this would play out and you were anxious about it, but at least this way, you’d all be better prepared.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

@promnightbinbaby

@intothesoul

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

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somefanchick · 7 months

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We have met, but I'm not who I was...

This is a platonic fic between Astarion and the Traveler (Tav) that I’m going to use on one of my next runs. Tav is of noble background and met Astarion decades ago at a party. I am totally down to give more info on this character if asked, but that’s all that you really need to know prior to reading this fic. (Short and sweet) (Minor spoilers for act 1)

He recognized me. That wasn’t something I was used to, and something I wished hadn’t been true. I could see that when I found him in the woods after the crash, he reacted to my presence for a split second. I could see recognition in his eyes, right before he tried to distract and attack me. Spoiler, it didn’t really work.

Once I remembered him, I didn’t initially know how to approach the situation so I did what I did best. I played dumb. I acted as if I believed him and didn’t recognize the vampire before me. He believed my ignorance, as most tend to, and I was able to recruit him to my camp.

A few days later, I had a camp of six other individuals and was about to invade a goblin camp full of cultists. I had my favorites of course; A strong barbarian tiefling with a heart of figurative gold and literal infernal iron, a beautifully mysterious cleric who I could tell was hiding things from both me and herself, and of course the vampire spawn. He was useful for stealth and I got a small thrill out of fooling him. Though that thrill had faded quickly.

Now that night had fallen and the others had fallen asleep, I got up to visit Astarion.

“Hello Tav,” His teeth glistened in the moonlight, the bottom of his fangs hiding just behind his bottom lip, “Has anyone ever told you that you look astonishing in the starlight? And just when I thought you couldn’t get more ravishing.”

“Aw Astarion!” I put on my best smile, placing my hands on my cheeks, “That’s so sweet of you to say. Now I hate to be a bother, but could you do me a favor?”

I noticed a slight fear in his eyes, but his smile didn’t break, “Of course dear. What is it?”

I put on my best doe eyes, “Could you cut the bullshit?”

That knocked off his metaphorical mask, “Excuse me?”

“Look,” my eyes sharpened and I dropped my own mask for the first time in years, “I know you know we met at one of Casador’s little parties. He introduced you as his assistant, which is true to an extent I suppose, and then he secretly instructed you to lure me in so he could feast on noble blood,” I put my finger on my lip, slowly gliding back into my innocent and ignorant persona, “I was the best target. The youngest of 13. Not exceptionally beautiful like many of my sisters, not as accomplished as my brothers, not the topic of much controversy like my sibling. Completely overshadowed. Wouldn’t even get an article in the Baldur's Mouth Gazette, just a few condolences to my parents behind closed doors. The only caveat was that it was me,” a smirk graced my lips, “Someone who could see through people like you and Casador and had enough charisma and intelligence to escape without even letting you know that I was on to you. But now I have the power to defend myself properly, so I’m willing to call you out.”

“I-”

I placed my hands in the center of my chest, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m not as gullible as you think. Don’t fuck with me. Follow my lead and not only will I cure everyone of this illithid shit, but I will help you kill that bastard. Listen to my command, and you will be free of him forever. Don’t betray me and you may become more powerful than you ever could imagine. I will even let you feed on me if you ask politely and only take what is necessary. As long as you use that power to help my cause. I might seem like an imbecile, but I’m a reasonable person. I make deals with gods and nobles. I’m great at compromise.”

I could see tension leave Astarion’s shoulders, “And here I thought we wouldn’t get along. You’re more cunning than I thought.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be this blunt about knowing so much of your personal business,” I smiled innocently, “But I needed you to know I wasn’t the gulabile little noble you believed me to be back then, or the harmless angel I was. That way our professional relationship could be built on a little respect.”

“Maybe more than just a ‘professional’ relationship,” Astarion smirked, “I am honest in my flattery you know.”

I let out a giggle, “We both know you’re not,” I turned away, “Goodnight ‘Little star’.”

I could feel his gaze on me. It was cold and harsh. I hadn’t earned his trust, but I had told him that we would play nice. Part of me was looking forward to him asking to sink in his fangs, if only to make him owe me.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #platonic #platonic fic #Noble Tav

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lisa972kdlz · 3 months

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Le cœur a sa mémoire :(Heart got his memory)

Another theoretical analysis about Underverse! More specifically about Error's character, his development, his personality and what might be going through his mind in the context of the series.

When you look at Error's behaviour in Underverse and compare it to his behaviour in the original comic, you quickly realise that it's not the same. And when you browse through the various versions of Error to be found in fandom, whether in fan fiction, comics or simple gags, it's this version of the Underverse that's found with varying degrees of nuance. In other words, a serious, grumpy, tsundere Error who hiss at the first person he meets. And... I'm really not a fan of this Error, because in my opinion it's less interesting and, above all, leads to received ideas that head straight for the cliché highway. Why do we have this skewed image of the character? Is it really inconsistent and unworthy of his integrity? Is this a bad thing, and does Underverse follow this line? Should we limit ourselves to saying that Underverse isn't canon so there's no reason to criticise constructively or even try to find connections?

Obviously not, because with a bit of imagination (and philosophy), there's (almost) always a way to put the pieces of the jigsaw together to give it concrete form! First of all, let's dissociate the Canon version of Error from its Fanon version.

In terms of personality, Error Canon is more like the Collector in The Owl House than the vampire-spider Miguel O'Hara in Spiderverse. An unhinged and paranoid Collector, but all the same. He's chatty, he smiles, and has no trouble talking to anyone, whether it's the creators who ask him questions, his prisoner Swap!Sans, or that strange visitor, the Sans that Fresh usually owns. It's a far cry from the grumpy, withdrawn character who refuses all human contact. In the comic, his reticence is often relatively controlled, and in any case, if he does do any harm, it very rarely comes back to the Gaster blasters. When Swap gives him a completely off-the-wall speech about friendship, yeah, he abandons him temporarily in the Anti-Void to teach him a lesson, but even in a panic he doesn't hurt or attack him. When he thinks he's being manipulated by Darkblitz8, he hangs her high into the air with his strings, but nothing more. Then he calms down straight away and quietly puts his hands back in his pockets and says, "What a nice lady, I love making new friends."

"Love. Making. New friends."

Yes, that's Error saying that, can you believe it? It's said as a joke, but OF COURSE he's sincere... And for a thousand and one reasons. What I mean is that, like every Sans else, he more has a tendency to hide his thoughts behind jokes or false humour than to reject or attack others. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it's a tendency.

The only time he pulls out his blasters (outside of destroying AU's) is when he gets a surprise hug from behind and when FRESH shows up out of nowhere. So it's relatively legitimate (but only relatively because there's nothing legitimate about exterminating your neighbour Ú^Ù).

Nevertheless, the Fandom version and the original version have one thing in common: Error is completely anti-social, fearful of others, and hates himself viscerally without admitting it to himself. But the "Tsundere" version is highly caricatured, with temperaments that are sometimes the exact opposite of what Error is! He is portrayed as cold, distant, incapable of not shouting when something displeases him, and so on. But in reality he answers questions, accepts a handshake from a stranger and even describes it as "pleasurable", talks about his tastes, admits word for word that he likes having people to talk to, concedes to requests... The only sensitive subjects are his personal problems, which include Papyrus, Toriel and, of course, himself.

But he hates glitches, right? The AU's and all that, he hates them?

Yes, he hates them, but subconsciously he makes a dissociation between the mass of shapeless glitches and an individual. When he goes to destroy AUs, they're glitches. When he meets someone at random and starts to build a human relationship with them (Swap), he almost forgets that he's supposed to hate him.

Canon Error plays the villain, but in fact he's a frightened little beast in denial about his extreme loneliness and strong self-hatred. This also fits the fandom version, but in a kind of misunderstood inverse: not only does he lose all his glitched, unpredictable, paranoid and nightmarish side, but above all he also loses his cute and childlike side, naive, unaware of social references like the term "ship", with surprising tastes and a real desire to form bonds when he feels it's safe to do so. As a result, he loses that strange duality that creates a feeling of unease, a mixture of fear and attachment, because we sense that he has totally human emotions but is too deranged to be able to be a truly healthy friend with anyone... He can hardly even be described as a narcissistic pervert, because he has already shown real compassion and even if he blames people for his misfortune, he won't tell them directly or make them feel guilty about it; he's more likely to say it to himself. He's more direct when he's in "destroyer" mode, but it's still accusations about people's glitch state in a general sense, like a "hate you all". No, he's not even just an asshole, he's just.... Insane. We forget that he's insane.

Also, when he feels threatened, Error will automatically step into his villain role with sardonic laughter and striking retorts. The Fanon version, on the other hand, will spit in the person's face and express his anger. He's rational, hateful, sinister, a killjoy and stable in his tempestuous character. Of course, there are fanarts and gags where the cute side is brought out... But they're usually just gags, and in fanfiction and comics they're rarely shown and often anecdotal without much imagination...

OK, I've been talking about the Fanon version for a while now, but does Error in Underverse have this problem?

Well...

No ┐( ∵ )┌!

Firstly because in Underverse it's moderate, and he's presented in situations where it's understandable (the majority of his interactions are with Ink, his sworn foe so obviously he's going to be on the defensive), but also, we'll see later, because the series raises an important side of who Error has become over the course of time, and confronts him with an ultimatum, where his status quô goes is smashed to pieces.

I'm not in favour of Error being ultra-aggressive and cold in stories in general because I find it makes him interesting as a dead rat, but portraying him as more serious, intelligent and aware of the world around him isn't a bad choice. How can we explain it?

Well... He grew old, that's all.

The Error of Underverse, and by extension of the Fandom, is a character who has evolved, been revisited and experienced in many different ways. He's gone from the "guy who messes things up in the AU's" to the "Destroyer", his overall power too has increased as fans have seen his potential for danger, which may be a parallel to the fact that he's... simply trained and toughened up as he goes along? There's nothing to stop us imagining a future based on the Canon we've been left with. He simply accumulates memory. Even the fact that Ink and Error are enemies, it isn't canon, but... Well, it makes perfect sense, because by putting universes in danger, of course he had to face the protector at some point!

Error has visited AU's, encountered situations that have taught him lessons... He has grown in maturity. Fine, he still gets nought for emotional maturity, but he has grown anyway, which is normal and a good thing (because if the characters never evolved in an open world, we'd be a bit bored all the same).

That said, there's a rather annoying glitch that's going to mess things up a bit...

It's her again, Ma'am the Canon description ! ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

In Canon, canonically, in real real real real.... Error is incapable of evolving. It's in his nature, quite simply. Because he's an "error".

According to Crayon Queen, the ending of Error's comic should have gone like this: Swap! Sans, as a result of being exposed to the Anti-Void, becomes an error in his own right, an erratic and unhinged being whose character and memory become dislocated and distorted. He retains his positive and heroic character, so it doesn't make him a villain, but he remains unpredictable and difficult to follow, and therefore dangerous. Error will feel horrible about this and will even be confronted with a deep guilt that will convince him to let him go. "Blueberror" will then be guided into the Omega Timeline by Core Frisk where he will go to live. And Error will find himself alone again in the Anti-Void, alone in this white nothingness, alone in the middle of All. As time goes by, he will forget all about the experience and return to the person he was before without questioning, for such is the destiny of errors. Corrupted things with no hope of salvation.

Yes, it's tragic, but that's the way it is! And Passive!Night is dead, get used to it!

(Never! QwQ)

(*Rubbing her hands) What if we tried to slip through the cracks and get round this restrictive element, all the while respecting the character and his universe?

Come on, let's get started?

We're off!

So why does Error lose his memory?

Because he's an error, all right. But is that all? Aren't there other remarkable factors that make him forget?

Already, exposure continues to the Anti-Void, where living leads to harmful consequences. To explain why, I had theorised that, being the opposite of the Void, it was the Core of the Multiverse, also known as the Great Whole, where codes intersect and aggreate. –I've done some research in the meantime and the Doodlesphere can't really be a Core, because it's Ink's 'private' dimension. It's an empty zone (perhaps an empty AU which is recognisable by its nature as a white or off-white nothingness without, however, corresponding to the properties of the Anti-Void) where the painter has grouped together some sort of links to access the AUs. It's a bit like a custom Doc document with thousands of URLs, but not a Heart.–

Exposed to the Anti-Void for too long, some of our codes end up merging with the dimension; we lose some, we receive some, until we become errors, a bit like a slow dissolution. Our memory is obviously affected. At the moment of transformation, but perhaps also as we continue to be exposed to it?

If you don't like this theory, there's also the fact that, well... It's a void. White. No wind, no heat or cold, no light, no shadow, no palpable matter. EVIDENTLY it causes an alteration in the brain and memory. If Error left the Anti-Void for somewhere less... Creepy, it's easy to imagine that his continual amnesia would be less severe.

And finally, the last and most important reason...

Error is alone and bored shitless.

Now let's going to do a bit of philosophy, because philosophy of the real world is science of fiction.

What is Memory (and owh shet I don't have fucking idea of the nuances of vocabulary in English philosophy–) ?

(Well in French "Souvenir" is meanging like memory and "Mémoire" the global uniting of the memories, I suppose there exists a term to make the nuance but I don't know enough about it so... Let's say that Souvenir = memory and Mémoire = Memory, okay?

Sorry ...TwT)

So, roughly speaking, it's the collection of our memories recorded by a stade of consciousness of a moment that was present but is now past. Not to be confused with storage medium: there's a lot of information recorded by the brain that we can't remember (in Error's case it's most certainly out of order too, at least in part).

The conditions for a memory are as follows: to fixate on an object, situation or person in order to take aware of it. Reflecting enables this to happen, because reflecting is about taking the initiative and interrupting the flow of thought in order to consider a specific idea; thinking that you've had that thought. It's like a computer: there are lots of images stored inside, but you won't have access to them, or only with difficulty, if you don't think about printing them out in physical format. In any case, to have a Memory, you need a trigger, something that connects you to reality and makes you say: I remember that.

And Error doesn't have that. There's nothing memorable about his life as an anomaly. He is alone, all the time, in a nothingness where nothing happens, where there is nothing beautiful. A memory is only a memory if we have a consciousness of a past and a present. But Anti-Void has no day, no night, no timetable, no real time. And the only time Error goes out is to kill masses of people he doesn't care about and doesn't even consider to be living beings. He doesn't care about the AU's he destroys. If we were to make a scrapbook of his holiday memories... It would be limited to sewing, sleep, Undernovela, destruction, conversation with imaginary people (his dolls or even us), Outertale, sewing, sleep.

He's alone and he FEELS alone. So lonely that he hears voices in his head, so lonely that he talks to his own dolls. He needs others. We can even assume, in the Canon at least, that he's an extrovert.

Yes, I just said Error was extroverted, and that's extremely weird 😅

But really, it's not so crazy. An extrovert is defined by the way the person resources themselves. Introverted, by being alone, extroverted, by seeing people. It's perfectly possible to be extroverted AND asocial and anti-anti-anti-antisocial. And there you boned a bit.

I'm not making any claims, what I can see is that Error has a certain ease in expressing himself and talking about himself (as long as it doesn't have to do with his problems) and that he's quite talkative. But then, maybe he's something else, intro or ambi, because in his condition of absolute solitude, ANYONE would have an immense need to be with other people.

Besides, don't you think that in his comic, the longer he lives with Swap, the more logical, stable and thoughtful he becomes? It's experience that accumulates. It's the Memory that works. Because with Swap, a friend at last, he can remember what's going on and realise how much time has passed. When he learns to knit with him, when he watches Undernovela with him, when he answers the creator's questions with him, and so on.

It's only after Swap has gone that Error closes in on himself again, letting the Anti-Void devour him once more.

To have a Memory, Error needs to get out of Anti-Void AND have a face, someone he can see fluently to remind him of his past experiences. And who fills that role perfectly in the Fandom, I'll give you three guesses?

Ink.

This is arguably the strongest no-canon relationship in the Undertale Multiverse. His exchanges with Ink, whether it's a confrontation, a tempestuous dialogue or a bullshit funny, all these little interactions help to forge an emotional bond between the two nemeses.

Whether fans develop this into a rivalship, a bromance or a romance, who cares,

EVIDENTLY Ink is very important to him.

EVIDENTLY he sees him, in some twisted way, as a friend.

Because Ink's the ONLY stable, long-term human relationship he has. And the only way to keep that bond is to keep destroying over and over again to get the painter's attention, and maybe even other people's attention. And given that Error's incapable of being healthy with anyone, because he hates himself too much and is too afraid of other people, what better way to show his attachment than with an "I hate you"?

I'm going to use a really stupid reference here, but Error has a bit of a Dory memory. She forgets everything as she goes along, but from the moment she meets Marlin, she forgets less and less. All she has to do is look at his face and she remembers everything they've been through. And afraid he'll abandon her all alone again, because she doesn't want to forget again.

What if that's what Error was afraid of in Underverse, when Ink 'abandons' him to go and play with X-Gaster? What if he's afraid that if he loses him, all his progression he accomplished so far will go up in smoke?

Ink is Error's Memory. It's very ironic.

And the icing on the cake is that Ink has a lot in common with Error: faced with extreme loneliness in a white void, loss of Memory, ignorance of the conscious state of the beings around them... Ink expresses this suffering through a desire to protect, and Error through a desire to destroy (it's superbly explained in THIS comic you'll found just after validated by the creator, I recommend it!) Isn't he the perfect friend? The funny thing is that in Underverse, the roles are 'reversed'. Ink is prepared to destroy everything, while Error is prepared to do anything to save what attention he has left. OK, he destroys the AU's, but he doesn't care about the AU's, he cares about Ink. He had the chance all along to do it, but he waited until the ultimatum. Because his battles with the painter and his status as quô are vital to him. He was pushed to the limit to commit the irreparable.

If that, is not two lunatics walking on a beam, I don't know what is.

I'm extrapolating here, but imagine that the odd island in the middle of the sea had been requisitionee by Error to be his new den precisely because he'd had enough of the Anti-Void and the memory loss it was causing him? Perhaps, having had a truce with Ink, he no longer felt the need to protect himself from him by staying in the Anti-Void (since Ink has a great fear of white spaces, it makes a good lair) and he was able to move in later. After all, the only time we see him in the Anti-Void is when Ink kicked him back in the arse and in the 2nd Xtrascene when he's snoozing. It's as if he's been sleeping off his wine or something, as if he's gone back there in a fit of rage to forget everything again in frustration at seeing Ink having fun without him. Haven't you noticed that the dolls and the footstool he sits in only exist in his dream? And that when he wakes up, he's on the floor with nothing around him? Why didn't he sleep in his footstool? It's as if he's actually moved all his stuff, except his souls, since they're best kept in the Anti-Void by Ink. The footstool isn't on the island in Xtra scene 1, but it is in Comic the Truce, Error moved it. Maybe he really leaved the Anti-Void and is only using it as a repository for souls? All this just to... Stop being mad? Live a more or less normal life? Become aware of who he is and... Simply be?

Very capylotract but I love this theory xD

And I also think that Error doesn't just see Ink as a tool or a means. I think he really thinks the two of them have a special relationship. Because he's romantically inclined, which is suggested by his Sans past, his taste for Outertale and the fact that he watches a rosewater series with a ship where his alternative version and the alternative version of the woman he loved are in a misunderstood and forbidden relationship, because he's afraid but also wants to be loved deep down given that he's incapable of giving himself self-esteem, because he shows intense frustration when Ink doesn't show him that it's mutual...

And because RIVALSHIP! It would be a perfect match for the Joker/Batman relationship in the Lego Batman movie and I think it's HANDSOME!!!! (*shakes fan-girling head)

(I don't know if Jakei will go with what I have developed but whatever she does will still be super awesome, I wouldn't worry about it ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧!)

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Ink belongs to @comyet

Underverse belongs to @jakei95

#undertale au #undertale #error sans #theoryunderverse #undertale multiverse #underverse #underverseanalysis #headcanon #ink sans #anti-void #ask-error-sans #errink #errorink relationship #rivalship #rivalshipping

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aphroditelovesu · 2 years

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hi can you write headcanons for yandere klaus mikaelson

"I would kill anyone who dares to touch you." - Klaus Mikaelson.

❝–🧛🏻 Lady L: God, this took so long to post and that's the reason it comes from some discussions. Initially, it was going to be the other author who would write this headcanon but we switched and I wrote it. Sorry for the delay, anon, but I hope you like our dear hybrid, as a yandere, Klaus Mikaelson <3

❝–🧛🏻 TW: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, uncontrolled jealousy, overprotection, murder, bloodshed, dub-con, stalking and kidnapping.

❝–🧛🏻 Pairing: Yandere!Klaus Mikaelson x Gender Neutral!Reader

Klaus Mikaelson is cruel, heartless and a complete sociopath. He doesn't have any kind of compassion for anyone and that includes members of his own family, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and is constantly trying to force his family to be loyal to him. He lacks scruples and humanity.

He's cold and insensitive to other people's feelings, but Klaus is completely different when it's about you. Klaus has two sides and he changes very quickly when it comes to you. He goes from being the feared hybrid to being loving and protective of his sweetheart.

Klaus isn't an idiot or stupid, he won't let himself be fooled so easily by anyone, at least not again. If he is betrayed by anyone, especially you, he will not be kind to punish you. He can either physically punish you or, if you're a vampire, stick a dagger on your chest to put you to sleep for centuries. Either way, he won't be gentle to your punishments.

His temper is extremely dangerous and easy to provoke. Klaus gets angry very easily and his anger is not something that should be ignored. He'll kill anyone who gets in his way in one of his rages, and most likely you'll be called upon to calm him down, given that you're the only one capable of doing that.

However, Klaus isn't completely evil, he's just sadistic. He loves to see the despair on people's faces and that includes his obsession. For him, there is nothing more pleasurable in the world than seeing the horror and despair on your beautiful face, the way you scream when he sinks his fangs into your soft and delicate skin. It's heaven as far as he's concerned.

He doesn't tolerate being annoyed and when he is, Klaus won't be the least bit friendly. He will be implacable and very aggressive, hitting or killing anyone who insults him, Klaus will have no mercy. His ego is very dangerous, the slightest insult to him or you will not be ignored. No one can insult him or his Queen/King and get away with it.

To say that Klaus is possessive is a huge understatement. He is completely possessive, jealous and obsessive, the very definition of those terms. Mikaelson is jealous of everything and everyone, anyone who looks at you will already be doomed. You are his and his alone. And Klaus won't tolerate anyone trying to take what belong to him. Never. You belong by his side forever. And Klaus Mikaelson isn't the type to give up or share what belongs to him.

On the other hand, after being very jealous and after killing someone because of a jealousy outbreak, he will probably feel remorse, he just doesn't show it. Klaus won't apologize for what he did, at least not in a sincere way, since he's not really sorry for his actions, but he will try to make you forgive him, since he hates it when you're mad at him. Klaus will be completely different from the dreaded mortal hybrid that everyone fears, but a fool in love and trying to get his sweetheart to forgive him.

He'll love you if you become his muse, Klaus is passionate about painting and you, a perfect match, isn't it? He will make all kinds of pictures of you, from the most elegant to the most erotic, this collection is just for looking at, since this view of your body is made just for him to admire.

Klaus is extremely overprotective of you and adding to his possessiveness, you won't have any privacy at all. He has a lot of enemies, a lot of people who might want to hurt you and he won't have that. If he can't be with you, one of his most trusted vampires will be at your side, watching you closely.

He's a great romantic, in fact, he wants to be your gentleman, even though he knows he doesn't have the manners. He will try his best to impress you, buying you flowers, pampering you immensely and when you go to bed, the whole room will be full of rose petals. Wine, candles, absolutely everything he can think of to make the mood romantic and you're completely satisfied.

Klaus is a big stalker too, there's nothing he doesn't know about you. Your family, friends and, it's worth mentioning, the people who caused you any kind of pain, were found disemboweled in their own pools of blood. No one hurts you, either emotionally or physically, and live to tell the history. Nobody.

Although he will never admit it, Klaus fears being abandoned, by you and his family. That's why he does all these bad things, he doesn't want to be left behind. And he won't accept that, especially from you. In you he found the love and peace he craved so much and he would be cursed if he let that slip away. That's why you can't run away from Klaus Mikaelson, he'll always find you anywhere in the world.

You're the only person he loves and trusts so much, Klaus would basically make you his therapist, forcing you to listen to his problems while he's lying on your lap. He trusts you with everything, every secret and even the most horrors he has ever committed will be confided to you.

Klaus Mikaelson is dangerous, sadistic and cruel, a merciless yandere who is ready to rip his enemies apart with a snap of his fingers. He has no mercy or compassion for those who cross him. He is possessive and obsessive, he will never leave his obsession alone or aside, you would be his priority and you always would be. He loves you, in a twisted and disturbing way, but he does, and he won't let anyone take you away from him. His temper is dangerous but only you can calm him down, you are the only one he trusts blindly, loves unconditionally and is madly obsessed. Klaus won't let you go anywhere. You belong with him, you belong to him.

#yandere the originals #yandere to #yandere klaus mikaelson #yandere klaus mikaelson x reader #yandere klaus mikaelson headcanons #yandere headcanons #the originals #to

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mareenavee · 11 months

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Tell us 10 things about your version of Teldryn! Inquiring minds want to know :)

Hello my friend! Thank you so much for asking.

This is good because while I know a lot about all of my POV characters in my fic, I know I've shared exponentially more about Nyenna and that perhaps I have worked on her backstory more than the NPCs that I've brought into this tale. I'll preface by saying most of these are going to be HC material based on the direction I wanted this character to go in this story.

So without further ado, 10 Teldryn things from my fic, The World on Our Shoulders. Do be warned, some of these do get a little deep. There's a CW/TW on #8, so skip if you need to.

1) Teldryn has a tendency not to think through his decisions as hard as he probably should, even after all these years. He lives very much in the moment, more as a way to ignore/avoid thinking about his past than anything. He does tend to want to move on to the next logical goal and doesn't see sense in lingering. Lingering or waffling can only cause more discomfort later on mostly. He's not a procrastinator generally. For a lot of reasons, this occasionally can be a point of contention between him and Nyenna, because she thinks too much about decisions most of the time.

2) Teldryn is not at all a fan of dragonflies. I have shared an in-universe example in this snippet here. There's no particularly discernable reason WHY exactly, as they are not harmful. Everyone has something. Nyenna hates skeevers en masse. Athis is disgusted by vampires. Farkas is nauseous about frostbite spiders. Teldryn does NOT want dragonflies to land on him or buzz anywhere around his ears at all. No thank you. The big bug eyes and loud wings and the weird long metallic bodies really sort of freak him out in ways other things just don't. (I love them personally irl lol)

3) He is a big complainer regarding cold weather. He hates icy winds, he hates when snow gets into his shoes, he hates not being able to see in bad weather. If his ears go numb with cold, then nobody will hear the end of it at all, ever. This despite living on Solstheim and in Windhelm. He travelled through Skyrim for decades of his life, too. And yes, all of those decades he had negative things to say about the Godsforsaken snow much to the chagrin of his patrons.

4) He never believed he'd ever be the kind of person who deserved love or kindness. He never saw a future where he'd ever be able to settle down. It affected his relationships, often by self-sabotage. He'd be the sort that wouldn't believe it when someone would profess their love of him because he couldn't see in himself why they would even say something like that. The closer they'd try to get to him the more he'd push them away until the relationship was too fractured to put back together. He might have loved or got close enough to it before, but his fear and self-doubt closed those doors before too long. Even then, it was nothing like really getting to know Nyenna. He might have been boastful and forward and bold at first -- but that was nothing new. He behaved that way with anyone (yes anyone) he found particularly attractive. It was more than that. It was a slow dawning realization that she somehow already saw the kind of person he could be underneath all the darkness. Despite all the complications of their situation, after that, he certainly did fall hard.

5) He knew Neloth in the 3rd era and is one of the very few people Neloth may possibly miss in an abstract, miniscule sort of sense should they actually be removed from Nirn. He can be considered one of Teldryn's close friends, again in that sort of almost indecipherable sort of way. Back then, Neloth really wanted to mess with the prosperity of house Dres and Teldryn somehow managed to convince him the best way to do that would be to join the Twin Lamps with him. Unheard of, really, for a Telvanni, let alone one as high up and curmudgeonly as Neloth. Teldryn takes that as a personal win even if Neloth wasn't in it to be empathetic and helpful, really. This secret has caused Teldryn a bit of trouble since then, however.

6) If he doesn't like working with a specific patron, he won't talk at all besides what needs to be said for survival, despite how chatty and boastful he normally seems. It's why sometimes people he'd worked for might say things along the lines that he's rude, harsh or that he's unfriendly. It's not the case, really, once you get down past all the swagger and chitin.

7) He never got a chance to cross paths with the Hero of Kvatch. He'd been in Cyrodiil during the Oblivion Crisis and actually did put his sword arm to good use, but they always seemed to miss each other. He never once saw Martin Septim either, at least not to the best of his knowledge. This was in his early years of being a sellsword in general and everyone was too busy with the Crisis to bother asking why he always hid his face behind a strange chitin helmet. At the time, that suited him just fine.

8) CW/TW: Implied Suicidal Thoughts and Mentioned Substance Abuse. Skip to 9 if you need to.

He spent a great deal of time and money trying to forget to the point of near self-destruction. Of course, with Corprus, he can't really die by disease or aging or even poison. He couldn't do it himself despite trying once or twice. He'd have had to get himself killed somehow. All he knew was that without any kind of purpose, he was absolutely unmoored. Especially around the time of the Red Year, he felt so much of it was his fault, a direct result of his actions, fated or otherwise, especially when word started spreading that the general opinion was that the Hortator abandoned Morrowind when he was needed the most. The guilt was unbearable. His go-to strategy to be done with it all was picking fights while massively inebriated. However, even on these extended benders, people mostly felt sorry for him and would drag his drunk and/or high self back to the inn or to jail to sleep it off. There was no honor in cutting down a drunk, especially one clearly in so much pain. Eventually, Neloth and Geldis helped him get back on track. He still struggles with the guilt and regret, but has come a long way since the Red Year situation.

9) He has a strained relationship with religion. He's not sure if he was played by Azura or if it was something more, but hasn't ever been able to shake the feeling that if he'd only done a few things differently, he'd never have gotten tied up in the Nerevarine nonsense to begin with. He'd never had been caught and arrested if he'd just paid a little more attention back before the start of things. The ambiguity gnaws at him, because he'd talked with Azura and he has Moon-and-Star and there's no real concrete way to determine where the lies end and the prophecy begins and just who or what is responsible for pushing him the direction he needed to be. It's also why he hates the term "Fate" but can't seem to find other vocabulary for all the coincidences he'd been wrapped up in over the course of his life. Azura doesn't speak to him directly anymore, but sends him little visions in his dreams once in a while that he generally can't quite determine the meaning of, usually regarding a decision he'd already made.

10) He didn't kill Vivec. He couldn't bring himself to do it, even after everything with the Ordinators. Even after everything with the Heart. Even after all the manipulation and bullshit that got him to the end of that path. Even after everything he lost by having to be this legendary hero, this paragon, the Hortator and Nerevarine. Azura had said he'd be responsible for the destruction of the Tribunal as the Nerevarine, but once Vivec was mortal again, death would come for him in no time at all. It wouldn't be by Teldryn's hand. And to this day, he has absolutely no idea where Vivec ended up or why and doesn't care to know. He will walk away if anyone brings it up in conversation, even if it's a bunch of scholars discussing history. He'd get into a bar fight over the mention of Tribunal worship. There's trauma there he's absolutely pushed aside.

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