*Astarionizes your Lino* here. he is heavily traumatized
CHANGBIN AS KARLACH
Draconic sorcerer felix durgechan
Doodle Train of my SKZ- BG3 AU
Bangchan-Human, Paladin Oath of Devotion (The Dark Urge)
Minho- High Elf, Rogue (Astarion, listen to me okay)
Changbin-Tiefling, Barbarian (Karlach)
Hyunjin- Half-Orc, Cleric Trickster Domain (Shart)
Jisung- Half-elf, Warlock, the fiend patron (sort of wyll but more fucked up)
Seungmin- Drow, Evocation (or abjuration) Wizard (used to work for minthara lol)
Felix- Half-elf, Brass or gold Draconic Sorcerer (tav ish, rolan kinda)
Jeongin- Tiefling, Druid circle of the Land (or spores i cant choose) (halsin if he wasnt a hunk of an elf and wasnt as horny idc halsin dies and we get jeongin to seal the land in act ii)
The downpour beat a tattoo against the window pane, the wind a ghostly sound. But Wyll was exhausted, and the bed was soft. Oblivion wrapped around him.
Time must have passed.
A weight settled on Wyll's chest, a steady pressure like an enormous hand pinning him down against the fine sheets. He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to obey. Nor would his limbs.
The chill grew deeper.
This is a dream.
It had to be. There was no more sound of rain, no howl of wind or crackle of the fire. Only oppressive quiet and utter darkness behind his eyelids.
Wyll fought a surge of frightened bile in the back of his throat.
Then, a single sensation. The smell of rosemary and bitter citrus. The scent brought to mind his host, and the languidly hungry way the man had gazed at him. A tremor rippled along his spine, and a stray, wild thought. What if it could have been Lord Ancunin's body pinning his, hands splayed on Wyll's chest and those winter-sky eyes painted with desire?
A sickening slurry of fear and want roiled in Wyll's stomach.
A soft pressure against his throat in the darkness, then a piercing lance of pain. He gasped, sordid imaginings banished by a black wave of terror. A chill spilled through him like a winter stream, filling every crevice in his body with ice.
He trembled. It was hard to breathe, his fingers and toes tingling numb, his life seeping away.
Maybe this wasn't a dream.
The folk tales he'd once read so avidly were not all fey grace and mischievous imps. There were sinister things within those pages, too. Demons that sat on one's chest in the night and stole their breath.
Wyll tried to thrash, to struggle, but his limbs only grew heavier as the cold spread through muscle and bone.
Panic claimed him, animal fear, feral and all-consuming. Screaming in his mind.
This place was haunted, cursed, bedeviled, and he'd walked into the trap all too easily.
Those nights at the diner he couldn't forget even if he wanted to, cozied up at a corner table with his roommate, sharing a cup of coffee so hot he'd almost forgotten about the heat in his belly when their feet would touch under the table or when Eryn would look at him in that certain way he always did when Dax said something just a little too snarky. Almost.
It was pathetic, really, how much he enjoyed getting to be alone with him, watching the golden boy mask slip just long enough to catch the adorably goofy way only one of his cheeks dimpled when he smiled for real, or the soft snort in his laugh when the walls were broken down.
And when he'd sip at his drink, Dax couldn't help but watch the way his lips wrapped around the straw, those soft tan cheeks hollowing as he tried so hard to gracefully suck up the warmth in that little paper cup. Those same lips he'd kissed countless times in the safety of their dorm, those same lips that coaxed sounds from his throat he didn't think himself capable of making, those same lips he watched form words that used to hurt, no longer directed at him, but sharp as a blade all the same.
A little snippet of my latest reply from @onlytavs and I's "And They Were Roommates" College AU RP 🖤
Tagged by a favorite - @jynxeddraca. I just happened to be working on this at the time. The goal is to get the chapter done today! Trying not to give anything away, but, well, if you're caught up to Chapter 13 of Ruins, you probably have a good guess on where this is headed.
"It's like looking down on the stars," Tav murmured.
The wall of windows continued from the main living space into Kerry's bedroom. It was a view she'd been admiring all day, astounded and terrified that she could be so high and still on solid ground. But the daytime crisscross of buildings and city blocks could never match the beauty of Waterdeep at night. Even centuries ago, on the one occasion when she and Astarion had visited Gale, the city glowed with the mundane magic of gas lamps and candle-lit windows on wet paving stones.
It knocked the breath out of her when she caught the view of downtown Waterdeep's amber street lights flickering to life, the traffic crawling through the streets, and the sleeping, inky expanse of the bay beyond. Astarion was at her back, sweeping the fall of her hair over one shoulder to kiss the punctures on her neck, pulling a sigh of contentment from her as he lapped at the mess he'd made of drinking from her.
"You put it all to shame."
Tagging my writer beloveds - @lanafofana, @spooky-lil-bee, @nyx-knox, @vixstarria, @charmandabear, and @pursuitseternal
@stormbrained asked: his hands are a mess of wet gore; everywhere he moves he spills crimson over himself, the ground, scratch. but he brightens when he sees winnie — brighten, in that his face slips from murderous exhaustion, to bland exhaustion. for the death spawn, this is enormous cheer. he offers her a chunk of something bloody looking in his hand.
"pomegranate?" he says, "it's a little too sweet for me."
there is a horror-struck moment where her eyes catch only the crimson of gore, dripping from his hands and staining both the ground and their furry companion, and her stomach plunges in unanticipated dread.
fortunately, scratch's tail wags as he starts to lap at teddy's hands in hopes of catching more of the juice, and spoken words sink into her ears before she can actually catapult into any sort of panic. relief floods through her system, and color returns to her cheeks as winnie attempts to recover before he can see where her brain went for a moment there.
"oh," she breathes, offering a smile that comes genuinely at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, "yes, thank you."
she takes what's offered as delicately as she can, trying to avoid getting too much of the juice on herself.
"you may want to clean up, though," she continues in good humor, "you've made a bit of a mess, here. scratch could use a run in the river nearby."
