. . . .. . . uhhhhhh. so, when's the wedding ????

〔 •ﻌ• 〕 ･ﾟ * º • 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 » ARE YOU BEAST BOY'S TYPE ? @vahdas

“ Next Friday, Titans Tower. Got a feelin' I gotta get a girl like you locked down before someone else colorful tries to stake a claim. ”

Fuck your windshield! / @vahdas

the sewers stink of mildew, shit, regret — and the vampire spawn is regretting everything. his boots squelch through the muck, old blood crusted into their seams from a baron’s betrayal two towns ago, and yet this is the indignity that threatens to undo him. sloshing through rat piss and gods know what else beneath a city that is almost baldur’s gate, but with less charm and worse wine. still, he’s here for a reason, and it’s not for the ambiance. the scroll fragment he found has long since been tucked into his pouch. it matches the whispering rumors passed between spawn and other adventurers in dark alleys and darker bedrooms: a ring, small and silver, imbued with the sort of magic that he before didn’t think existed. the kind that bends sunlight to a creature like him, lets it kiss his skin instead of scorch it. so yes, the boots were worth sacrificing. and he knows he must be getting closer to something that could prove substantial for his search.

there are petrified corpses lining the tunnel. around twelve of them. stone-eyed, mouths agape in their final horror — elven, human, gnome, tiefling, even a hulking half - orc caught mid - battle cry. he rolls his shoulders back, and rounds the next corner — only to come to a sudden, dramatic halt. someone else is here. not a statue. not petrified. moving. red eyes narrow as he draws both daggers in a single smooth motion. just his luck — possible competition. the figure is… odd. not the usual drab adventurer mess, nor the stiff - backed, cloak - wrapped mage type. interesting. possibly a problem. his voice, when it comes, is silk over steel. ❛ a petrified graveyard in the sewers is quite the odd place to find a lady having a leisurely stroll. ❜ the sarcasm hangs in the air like incense. he watches her, gaze sharp, tone light but body ready to strike. she might be here for the same reason. which means she might have to not be here much longer. he tilts his head, baring a sliver of fang. not quite a smile. more like a threat dressed up in finery.

but then — a tremor in the environment. Astarion stiffens. the ground beneath them vibrates, subtle at first, then undeniable. a low rumble hums through his boots, rattles through his knees, and sends a gentle cascade of dust and gravel trickling down from the sewer ceiling. and then it comes into view. a beholder. gods damn everything. its single, grotesque eye glares through the gloom, and its many stalks twitch in tandem, mouths of arcane death ready to fire at the first fool to move wrong. it floats forward like a smug balloon of annihilation — and behind it, Astarion sees it — another chest. gilded. locked. slightly glowing. his.

BAG   OF   BONES    ;    𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵  𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

                           ╰┈➤     @vahdas

this  is  actually  a  great  question  because  he  would  vehemently  argue  that  he  wants  to  hear  no  lies.  Zero  Lies  Ever.  which  ...  is  true  in  theory,  but  Puck  is  very  good  at  tricking  himself  into  believing  something  for  the  sake  of  his  own  sanity.

the  one  that  immediately  comes  to  mind  is  how  his  twin  Iago  tells  him  that  they  are  okay,  &  more  specifically,  that  he  did  not  hurt  them  after  the  Dark  Urge  takes  over  him.  he  wants  to  hear  that  ;  he  needs  to  hear  that,  even  if  he  knows  deep  down  that  it  isn't  true.

Iago  will  tell  half-truths  or  fabricate  stories  about  where  new  scars  or  bruises  come  from,  &  even  if  he  knows  something  isn't  right about what they tell him,  he  doesn't  question  them  because  he  is  afraid  of  the  truth  that  he  already  knows.

 ❝    i   do   not   know   a   ‘   tom   nook   ’,   though   i   would   like   to   meet   them   some   day.   ❞ 

𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬   𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭  ⋆˚✰ ˖⭑   .ᐟ

〔 •ﻌ• 〕 ･ﾟ * º • 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 » @vahdas receives an unrequested starter !!

A  flying  squirrel  lept  from  a  branch  with  purpose,  arms  outstretched  to  allow  the  wind  to  slow  its  descent. The  green  creature  landed  first  on  the  woman's  shoulder,  looking  her  in  the  eye. ❝ Wow . . . ❞ Bounding  from  her  shoulder,  he  shifted  at  a  moment's  notice,  a  fanged,  toothy  grin,  paired  with  pointed  ears  and  a  handsome  shade  of  green  skin.  Forgetting  himself  and  lingering  in  her  bubble.  Inquisitive  eyes  hardly  knew  where  to  begin. ❝ Aren't  you  somethin'  special?  Never  laid  eyes  on  anyone  like  you,  that's  sayin'  somethin'. ❞

𝙎𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙇𝙀𝙏'𝙎 𝙐𝙋, 𝘿𝙊𝙀𝙎 𝙎𝙃𝙀 ? the tips of his ears twitch, unable to hide his real reaction. not that he's angry. far from it, actually. he loves her playful nature, the fact that she never lets him win . . . not even for a second. it makes things fun. but they are in public after all. luckily it's early in enough in the morning that the park is rather barren, a family being the only ones within earshot. but it doesn't stop valko's cheeks from darkening. he turns to face her, his tail stiff behind him. the ball in his hands looks like it's about to pop before he loosens his grip on it. gently he tosses it back to her, ignoring the way the father of the family is staring in their direction. did she always have to tease him ?

❛ you're real funny, huh ? ❜ fangs gritting together he gives her a toothy smirk. but the blush upon his cheeks has yet to dissipate. clearly her plan worked. the wolf straightens his posture, running a hand through his hair. they've been there for at least an hour, maybe it's time they leave. maybe, he could take her to dinner. the thought causes his tail to sway.

❛ let's get out of here. we can get dinner, if you want . . . ❜