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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all.

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”

Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

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doopcity · 4 months

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Jillas babyyyy i wanna take care of u

#jillas #slayers #jillas jillos jilles #or whatever his whole name is #furry art #half assed draws #i wish he had fanfic abt him i want more of him #what ihave to make it myself? shut up #but like i'd love to see how his life is after the show

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seventh-district · 2 months

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This Evening I Will Not Forget

“I jumped into the fray with the intention of helping you and next thing I know I’m standing there uselessly watching the first person I’ve dared to love in two fucking centuries take a warhammer to the stomach!”

He turned to face you as he emphasized his last few words, now standing all but frozen in the middle of the tent with his hands held out, gesturing toward your injury. You’re about to pipe up and insist that it wasn’t his fault, but the words dissipate before you can speak them as another part of his sentence echoes in your mind. You repeat them back to him in a disbelieving whisper.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

An injury and an argument lead to you revealing far more of yourself and your unspoken past to Astarion than you planned to.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,292

Content Warnings: [injured Reader] (not graphically described, just mentions of bruising and pain) [mean/avoidant Astarion] [argument] [mentions of Reader's scars & non-specific allusion to their Tragic Backstory™] [vulnerability] [possibly (probably) OOC Astarion]

Author's Note: This is an excerpt from my fic An Evening I Will Not Forget, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. The only context I think you'll need is that this fic is written in the style of reliving memories, hence certain lines will mention Reader "looking back" on them.

“What's important is this evenin' I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red

These colors of feelin'

Give me love, I'll put my heart in it”

You’re lying on your back as cold, pale fingers press against your sensitive skin, pulling a small pained sound of protest from you.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Astarion retracts his hand, fingers curling into his palm. You reach out to catch hold of him before he can completely pull away, your voice tense with pain as you reassure him.

“No- no... don’t be. I know you’re just trying to help.”

You bring his hand back toward your exposed stomach, his fingers still coated in the healing salve he was attempting to apply. His hand hovers hesitantly over your bruised and broken skin.

“Yes, but- I’m not very good at it.”

Your thumb brushes across his wrist as you hold onto him, suspecting that if you let go he’d just retract his hand again.

“What do you mean? Of course you are.”

He shakes his head insistently.

“No. It seems like every time I try to help you, I just end up hurting you even more…”

Confusion is clear both in your voice and on your features.

“That’s not… that’s not true, Star.”

You tug lightly on his wrist to get his attention, your voice soft as you ask him a question.

“Is this about what happened today?”

He pulls his hand out of your loose hold and you let him, watching as he stands and begins pacing circles inside the tent.

“No, I’m in a bad mood because the weather isn’t quite to my liking- of course it’s about what happened today!”

The initial sarcasm in his voice gave way to frustration near the end. Not with you, but with himself.

Now that you’re observing this memory from his perspective as well, you can see the moment you sustained the injury playing over and over again in his mind, working him up further and further.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

Your eyes widen, nodding slowly.

“Yes you did.”

Nervous laughter escapes him as he takes a step back, distancing himself from you.

“No, no, you… you must have heard me wrong. I didn’t- I was talking about helping you, I didn’t say anything about love, what’s love got to do with this?”

You hate to push him, fearing he may bolt like a frightened deer if you double down, but you know what you heard. It wasn’t like the first time you heard him say it, slapping it on the end of a string of pick-up lines, the word obviously carrying no weight, no truth. No, this second time was different.

“I think it has more to do with it than you’re willing to admit, Astarion.”

He falters, one of very few times you’ve seen him truly caught off guard, truly speechless.

“Those are…” He searches for something to say that’ll cover up the truth that’d just spilled out of him. “...bold words for someone currently bedridden.”

You bark a laugh and it turns into a low groan at the pain it causes to flare in your lower ribs.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

If he’s being honest, even he’s hardly sure what he meant. He’s truly floundering here, for the first time in… forever.

“It means… it means that I can walk away from this conversation right now and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”

Stooping so low as to resort to childish threats, you can feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“Would you truly be so cruel as to do that to me right now? Walking away, leaving me vulnerable and confused just because you can’t handle the truth?”

You’re pushing your luck too far and you know it. Surprisingly, though, he takes one step toward you, moving away from the exit.

“Cruel?! If you think that me simply walking away from you counts as cruelty then you truly haven’t suffered enough.”

His words are suddenly laced with venom and they hit you harder than the barbarian’s warhammer did today, leaving a chill colder than ice in their wake.

He seems to actually hear what he said a moment later, the careless words ricocheting off of you and coming back to slam into his chest, nearly knocking him over and crushing him beneath the weight of his sudden regret.

A furious wave of heat and adrenaline courses through you as you bolt upright in the makeshift bed, ignoring the sharp pain that flares inside you in response to the sudden movement. Reaching down and grabbing at the tail of your shirt where it’s bunched up around your ribs, you hastily yank it up over your shoulders and head, tugging your arms out of the long sleeves and furiously tossing the garment directly at him.

“Suffered enough? You think I haven’t fucking suffered enough, Astarion? You don’t know the goddamned HALF of it! You’re not the only one in this tent that’s been abused, you know?! Oh wait- that’s right- you DON’T!”

Your voice cracks under the pressure of volume and emotion as fat, hot, angry tears roll down your cheeks against your will. Astarion stands there like a deer in the headlamps, your balled-up shirt having hit him softly in the chest and fallen anticlimactically to the ground. As his eyes rake over your heavily scarred arms, the angry purple markings showing no signs of lessening as they curl over your shoulders and disappear behind your back, it suddenly starts to make a lot more sense why you were so damned insistent that no one remove your clothes while treating your wounds earlier.

Shadowheart rips open the flap covering the tent’s exit, a very concerned looking Halsin ducking down behind her. Part of you is grateful that at least not everyone was currently at camp to witness your sudden breakdown, but even the sight of the two of them is enough to have you panicking. Pulling at the blanket gathered around your waist and shouting in an admittedly very childish, vulnerable voice, you demand they leave as you choke on your tears, hastily covering yourself up.

“GET OUT!”

Unsure of what to do, Shadowheart surveys the scene before her with a critical eye before sighing, seeming to understand that the best thing they can do right now is give you back your privacy. She knows that if you needed her, you would call. Turning to shoo away the concerned man behind her, she lowers the flap back down with a quiet murmur of “They’re… fine. Let’s give them some space.”

Astarion finally breaks free from where he’s been stood like a statue, slowly moving toward the exit as well with an unsure glance in your direction.

You bury your face into the fabric clutched in your hands, shouting into it in exasperation.

“NOT YOU!”

He freezes, no longer knowing what to do but wishing that the ground would simply open up and swallow him whole. Back under six feet of soil feels like where he deserves to be after what he just said to you.

He racks his brain for the right thing to say, coming up empty handed and eventually deciding that honesty might just be the best policy in this situation.

“I… I’m going to level with you. I have no idea what to do right now.”

In spite of it all, you laugh, a broken sound that cuts through your tears, causing you to cough, then the strain from coughing causes more tears to fall. Though he can’t admit it, Astarion knows right then and there that he never wants to hear or see you in such pain ever again.

“I… I’ll level with you, too.”

You pull the blanket away from your face, looking at him with watery, bloodshot eyes.

“...Neither do I.”

You glance down at the floor, attempting a deep breath and failing spectacularly as another broken sob escapes you. Dropping the fabric still held up against your chest, you press your hands down into the bedroll beneath you in an attempt to support your upper body and ease the pain radiating through your core.

Astarion takes one cautious step toward you, his unsteady voice the only thing filling the silence aside from your soft crying.

“I need… to apologize. For everything.”

You shake your head in disagreement and clear your throat.

“No, you don’t. You’ve been through a worse hell than I could ever even imagine. It’s… stupid of me to try and compete with you in that regard.”

He takes another step forward, insistent.

“That isn’t true. You have… clearly been through your own hell, and it was… stupid of me to assume you hadn’t. Even worse of me to try and downplay my avoidance by… holding my past over you like some sort of… like some sort of excuse.”

You shift your weight to the side in order to lift one hand, reaching out to grab at one of the small cloths stacked beside your bed. Astarion sees you struggling to reach them and rushes forward, closing what remained of the space he’d put between you as he lifted a cloth and handed it to you without a word.

You bring it to your face, pressing it to your eyes in a useless attempt to dry the tears that were still falling. Then, moving it down to blow your running nose into the cloth before you could make an even bigger mess of yourself than you already were. Finally able to breathe a bit better, you counter his point.

“Yeah, but- the thing is, I feel like you kinda have the right to do that, given all that you’ve survived. Of course you’d see the pain of walking away from a conversation as trivial when you compare it to… literally anything you’ve experienced.”

Now that he’s returned to your side, Astarion’s head angles to drag his gaze across your exposed back, finally seeing the full extent of your scarring as you lean forward a bit to toss the dirty cloth to the floor of the tent next to your shirt. Nausea swirls deep in the pit of his stomach as the upsetting sight of your marred skin burns itself into his memory.

“I believe… that’s called a double standard.”

You throw him a sad, confused look, and he explains.

“You’re trying to give me some sort of… free pass based on what I’ve been through, but I’ve never once seen you give yourself that same sort of leniency.”

“That’s… not the same thing.”

“I’m not saying we’ve been through the exact same thing, but…” He gestures vaguely to the entirety of you. “...clearly you’ve gone through something. If I get to lord my baggage over you then surely you’re permitted to do the same.”

Your tears begin to slow as you consider his words.

“I don’t… want to do that, though. Obviously. That’s why I haven’t told you. I don’t want you giving me special treatment because ‘poor pitiful me’ has gone through some shit. I don’t think that excuses any of my current behavior.”

The silence hangs in the air for a moment before he gently drives his point home.

“Yet you think it excuses mine?”

Hm.

“...okay. I guess you’ve got me there.”

You sigh, body beginning to feel heavier than lead as the sudden rush of emotion and adrenaline fades from you. You ease yourself back down, hissing at the pain as your bruised ribs and torn muscles protest the stretch and movement. Astarion wants to assist but truth be told he’s afraid to touch you. So, he watches on helplessly, still berating himself in the back of his mind for the role he feels he played in you sustaining today’s injuries to begin with.

Once you’re laid down and relaxing into the bedroll as much as you can, you make no effort to cover yourself up, not caring how long his eyes wander across your exposed skin. Silently, he tries to read the countless jagged lines and dots carved into you like they may eventually come together to paint him a picture of all that’s happened to you.

No picture anyone could paint would ever do the pain justice.

He settles himself down next to you as your tired eyes stare a hole in the ceiling of the tent.

“You do not have to accept my apology, but I will not rescind it. I do have the wherewithal to know that what I said was wrong. It was cruel. I…”

He exhales, the heavy sound full of the weight carried by a man that hasn’t been this honest with anyone in centuries.

“I… tossed aside any consideration for how you may have felt, letting myself get lost in my own… stupid fears. It wasn’t right. It certainly wasn’t fair to you.”

Your head lolls to the side, appraising him with lidded eyes.

“You know… you’re surprisingly self-aware when you aren’t being a pompous ass.”

Your words draw a surprised laugh out of him and after a moment of consideration, he nods slowly in reluctant agreement.

“I’ve… had a lot of time to sit with myself and think. Eventually you get to know yourself pretty well.”

He looks down, idly picking at the loose threads on the edge of your well-worn bedroll.

“All of that self-awareness apparently doesn’t make me any kinder though, does it?”

It’s a rhetorical question but you answer it all the same.

“I still stand by my statement that you have good reason to be so… abrasive. Just being aware of those reasons doesn’t mean that they suddenly don’t affect you any more.”

Your hand raises from where it laid lifelessly beside you, reaching over for Astarion’s and pulling his anxious fingers away from attacking the weak points of your bedroll. You don’t release his hand once you direct him away from the loose threads, holding onto him as you continue to muse aloud.

“I think that a lot of us are just doing our best to not allow our past to affect our present, to varying degrees of success. Sometimes we fail. But- I believe all that truly matters at the end of the day is that we’re trying, though. … And, Astarion?”

“...yes?”

“I can tell that you’re trying.” You squeeze his hand. “And I accept your apology.”

You take a slow, deep breath, and listen as his voice comes out softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Thank you.”

You nod your head in a silent “of course,” laying in thoughtful silence for a few moments before speaking.

“I… feel like I should apologize as well.”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to be confused.

“What ever for?”

You weakly raise your other hand to gesture all around the room.

“Just… this. The scene I just made. Heaping all of this emotion onto you when you were obviously already struggling with how you felt about me in the first place.”

He doesn’t take long to respond.

“No, I don’t think you need to apologize for that. This… seems like it really needed to come out. I could never be upset with you for sharing it with me, regardless of the… unideal circumstances.”

He then seems to realize something.

“I hope you don’t regret it, though. Sharing this with me.”

You shake your head decisively and the motion causes your impending headache to flare.

“No. I don’t. I- uh- you were going to find out eventually with how… close we’ve been getting. I just couldn’t find the right time to tell you- or- well, show you, I guess.”

Your hand releases its hold on his, reaching up to carefully brush your fingertips across the mottled skin of your stomach. You raise your head up, angling it down to look down at the injury with a thoughtful gaze. Glancing over toward Astarion, you ask him another question.

“Can you hand me that salve from earlier? It never really… got fully applied.”

He immediately reaches behind him for the container, but holds it in his grasp as he stumbles over his words.

“I- I, uhm… wouldn’t mind trying again, if you want me to. If you don’t I’ll understand, though. Just… want you to know that the offer is still there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you’re completely willing to let him do it.

“Oh… sure? You’re welcome to, I just… assumed you wouldn’t want to.”

He holds his other hand up and only then do you realize he never wiped the salve from his skin.

“These fingers are numb already anyways, might as well spare yours the same fate.”

You vaguely remember Shadowheart’s words as she passed Astarion the container earlier, cautioning him to not leave it for long on any skin he didn’t want to temporarily lose feeling in.

“But hey, at least we know that it works now, right?”

You give him a tired smile, appreciative of his efforts to lighten the mood.

“Mmm, I suppose so.”

You pull your hand away, exposing your injury to him once again.

“Have at me, then.”

With your permission, he sweeps a scoop of the healing and numbing mixture across your sensitive skin and you notice how feather-light he keeps his touch this time. Looking down to observe his work, you note how the messy mixture of the massive bruise’s dark colors stand in stark contrast to his pale white fingers that brush across it.

A thought slips out of your exhausted mind.

“Pretty…”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, unsure if he heard you correctly.

“Hmm?”

“The colors. They’re pretty. Purple, blue, even kinda orange…”

You look away from the bruise and up into his ruby eyes.

“...red.”

He’s silent for a moment, his hand pausing its gentle motion. Then he scoffs, looking away and internally dismissing your words as the ramblings of a tired mind.

“You’re talking nonsense, dear.”

Your filter has all but completely vanished, feeling almost drunk on your current mixture of exhaustion and relief after such a hell of a day. Sleep beckons you and your eyes fall closed as the pain in your ribs fades, on its way to being numbed out by the potent salve. A hazy thought surfaces, reminding you to give your thanks to Shadowheart when you next awake. For now though, you relax, no thought given to the words that slip from your lips.

“But you love my nonsense, don’t you…”

His heart feels like it jumps in his chest as he hears you so casually speak the word that he’s still reluctant to even think to himself, let alone say aloud. As he finishes massaging the salve into your skin and pulls his hand back, his eyes pass over the expansive unspoken history of pain evidently etched into your skin, up across your chest, over your shoulders and down your arms. He figures the least he can do is answer you honestly before sleep pulls you under.

“I… suppose I do.”

End Notes: If you'd like to read my commentary on this scene, you can find that in the end notes of Ch. 5 on AO3 - right here!

Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #my writing #eheheee my attempt at baiting more people into reading my fic by posting parts of it as oneshots on Tumblr has begun /hj #i'm only half joking tho cause yeah while getting more eyes on the full fic would be a nice side effect if the oneshots do well on here #i also just want to give my favorite parts of the fic that i feel can stand on their own a chance at a second life here on Tumblr #regardless of whether that brings more people in to read the full fic or not

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artemishasthebluez · 2 months

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we need more post-canon frenrey fanfics where benrey is just learning about human stuff. send tweet

#hlvrai #half life vr self aware ai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #frenrey #benry hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #benrey hlvrai #benry benry benry #gordon hlvrai #gordon freeman hlvrai #gordon feetman hlvrai #gordon feetman #gordos feetman #gordos freeman #fanfics #writing stuff

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qcomicsy · 27 days

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I have the controversial opinion that maybe, just maybe we stop wanting to go after people with pitchforks for getting characters wrong and not reading the comics inviting them to easy and accessible ways of and making our own content with comic accurate representation

people might feel less anxious about starting comics and misinformation won't spread as easily

#but that just me #I'm a batman fan for maybe all my life but just started seriously getting to the comics of half of the batfamily as an adult #let people take their time #some of them just got here #“THEYRE WRONG” you can block them #“THEY'RE GOING TO INFFECT THE CANNON JUST LIME THEY DID WITH TIM AND COFFEE” make accurate jokes then push people who make accurate jokes #interact with accurate jokes #make informative posts #if every time we feel the hit to beat up a comic inaccuracy post we make a funny little comic accuracy post maybe there won't be as much #disinformation peace and love on the planet earth.#never going to forget how much I shit on bad spideypool fanfics until I get to read some of my favorite writers old fanfics and they were #absolutely nothing like the characters #some people take time some people don't know where to start #some people don't have time to read the comics #some people don't have your favorite character whole backstory engraved #“THEY CAN RESEARCH” of course and fannon would be better if they did but have you consider....you have the power to make it better #i just think sometimes we can take the spite and make something beautiful #q rambles #i wrote the shit and forgot to finish LMAO

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mon-mothmas-collar · 2 months

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halfbaked and basic landoscar fic concept where Lando tends bar at a struggling pub recently passed down to Logan and Alex, who reaches out to Logan’s childhood friend Oscar to help save the bar and over the course of several weeks/months/however Oscar and Lando grow closer trying to do their best to save the pub while Sargbon try to set them up

#So like the vision is #Logan and Alex got handed this pub (probably named williams or smth) by a old family friend and it’s pretty in the dumps already #they’re gonna sell the place until Lando (someone who tended bar under the old owner and is really attached) convinces them it’ll be worth #so they call oscar in who’s working like a shitty 9to5 and has no friends or life outside work #and beg for his help saving this bar #and it’s very hallmarky like the whole town gets together to help save the bar with the rallying of Lando and the genius of oscar #the two obvi get closer together over the course of saving the bar #but hijinks ensue through miscommunication #probably smth like Lando overhears Oscar telling logan he is giving up/going back to shitty 9to5 out of context #when really it’s the opposite #and they fall in love #so oscar ends up running the admin side of the bar while logan alex and lando all work the front of house #fanfic writers im giving you this half baked shitty concept #as a gift #landoscar #mctwinks #oscar piastri #lando norris #logan sargeant #alex albon #sargebon

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zachhh · 2 months

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Lemon Tree - Chell animatic

see, these are recent rough ideas i decided to draw. i've had this idea for months, some of the chell fanart i did prior are kind of related to this animatic. i don't know if i will ever take these roughs a step further into a full blown animatic / proper storyboard, so i hope you still enjoy it this way ~~

song: Lemon Tree by Fools Garden

#portal #wheatley #chell #blue sky fanfic #chelley #potatos #headcrab #half life #half life 2 #zachhh #storyboard

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partypanic · 5 months

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Are you really a hlvrai fan if you haven't cried over it atleast once

#party panic reblogs #this is /s #i have cried. so many times over it #not even like angst fanfics just #hlvrai 💔💔💔#UGH im not normal #hlvrai #hlvrai posting yes #half life vr but the ai is self aware #-aoife n norman n ben

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qhazomb · 4 months

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well the HLVRAI fandom seems to be coming out of hibernation, and i see other people reposting/reblogging their older fan stuff, so i figured i might as well, too.

in which Gordon and Benry swap bodies and neither of them enjoy it. shenanigans ensue. and body horror. and Benry vogue-ing while in Gordon's body. among other things. what kind of things? just read and find out!

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #nhlvrai #gordon feetman #benry #benrey #hlvrai au #body swap #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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kurim-chis · 8 months

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Just read a Yingxing/Blade x Reader fic in the CN platform 晋江 where the main plot centers around the comedy and a ambiguously happy ending for Ying Xing, who in the main plot manages to have a family and is very, very content with his lot in life despite the war against Abundance.

Author rn is writing a “what-if” branch of where Ying Xing became Blade, its an AU and some things are different from HSR because “you” existed, and Author makes it clear that we can see it as an AU and consider the Ying Xing main plot as a HE or as a story that snowballed into a tragedy for Ying Xing’s life. It’s, of course, an AU since there’s not much known yet about the past of the High Cloud Quintet.

And I’m wkdkksnJDKFKKDKDJE BECAUSE the first half with Ying Xing is so fluffy, so light, it’s very comedic too because Ying Xing is such a ROCK and so rude and obsessed with smithing, there’s a lot of people who had chased after him even tho he’s a short lived species but he’s so obsessed with weapons and so RUDE that they eventually back off lmao. It’s so bad that the “reader” gets over their initial miffed feelings pretty quickly and feels a bit sorry for their “rival”.

AND THEN AND THEN!!! Blade in the branch/AU/second part of the story is written so nicely, he’s passive and cold and ruthless, but in a more numb way and the tragedy of his family with “you” (which is still unknown since Author just began to write the Blade branch) seems to have shattered his mental state even further than canon. He gave me the feeling he was like a machine or an animal.

The Author describes Blade in a way that just hits all my Moe Points! The guy who will violently murder someone with an emotionless expression (no hard feelings, literally) but in the story, even with a muddled consciousness and a shattered sense of self and half amnesia - it’s very clear his personality was warped and shattered when compared to the Ying Xing in the first half - he still recognizes “you”, and has a vague recognition that you are an existence precious to him.

You are like a fragile dream of a past long gone. If he blinks even once, you will disappear like the foams in the ocean, and he feels like he will go even more mad if that happens.

He is clearly very obsessed but in a muddled, not quite there way. In the latest chapter instead of being overtaken by Mara and needing to get his memories erased by Kafka, he pinpoints you and basically kidnaps you while the Nameless fight against Phantilya and you wake up as they watch the fight. Phantilya’s petals fly all over the place and some of them shoot towards you and Blade, and though Blade grabs you and retreats, he wordlessly picks up an abandoned lance on the ground and throws it towards Phantilya. Very petty and vengeful, even tho Kafka mentions Elio never said they’d join the fight. ETC ETC ETC.

He speaks even less than canon, and ever since he saw “you”, he’s been wordlessly sticking to you like sticky rice, with the only time having been at the beginning where you arrived with Dan Heng and Blade went on to beat the living shit out of Dan Heng. He abandons his vendetta with Dan Heng and shoots towards you when he noticed one of those resuscitating mobs trying to grab your leg.

It’s just. My heart. One of the latest scene he’s written as just raising his arm and hovering it over the small of your back, staring at you with an unblinking, blank and hazy gaze, his actions treating you like glass, as if you were a very precious, very fragile dream that will disappear if he so much as touches you.

I LOVE THIS KIND OF CHARACTERIZATION FOR BLADE!!! Cold and tragic and ruthless, but has this very special soft spot for certain people.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr blade #blade x reader #I hope more and more fanfics appear in JinJiang #that are HSR fanfics #HAHAHAHA the story started out as a comedy slice of life #and Blade Part is half comedy and half hurt/comfort #author hasn’t written very far off into it

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medikkink · 2 years

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nsfw//

i’m literally so excited

i’m working on the smuttiest but also modest gordon x gman one shot right now and i cannot wait to publish the final draft

(using this one shot to take a break from my main dbd fluff fic)

spoilers: there will be edging so don’t get your hopes up

#thrillerrr.txt #half life #half life 2 #gman x gordon freeman #gordon freeman #gman #fanfiction #fanfic #half life fanfiction #half life fanfic #half life one shot #half life 2 fanfiction #half life 2 fanfic #half life 2 one shot

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miss-celestia13 · 1 month

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“You were made from scars to live a life you’d rise above.”

Thank you to my lovely, beautiful, and talented friend @anabellerose96 for this fantastic artwork 😭 it is the best early birthday present ever. I love you ❤️I have their permission to share it here! I’ve added a small snippet from a chapter of my story because I wanted to 🤭 Thank you! Aries season will soon be upon us ♈️🔥

While she hunted for something to wear that wouldn't make her feel suffocated, Jon had already dressed. Everything was too tight around her chest, and she was growing frantic as Jon approached, tying his hair back. Her heart fell at the sight of his youthful face turning grave and harsh as he finished. She wished he would wear it down, a frivolous wish, but she made it just the same as he eyed her scowl.

"What's wrong?" He asked, gaze skipping from her to the mess of gowns and coats she'd tossed on the floor.

She wanted to stomp her foot, but refrained and huffed instead.

"None of it fits anymore, and it's entirely your fault," she said, her voice more like a childish whine as Jon's face lit with amusement.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, I've been known to be, but I believe you were also involved, Dany."

Her brows hammered down, and her mouth twitched with the want to laugh.

"Yes. However, I refuse to assume blame, considering I was under the impression this was impossible." She gestured toward her stomach and let the smile itching the corners of her mouth break free as he gave a dark chuckle and embraced her.

He swayed with her in his arms and kissed the top of her head as she breathed in the scent of oiled leather and Jon.

"Well, I am glad to prove you wrong, then. There is a solution to your problem. I'll find her before I speak with Davos, alright?"

She laughed lightly and tilted her head back to meet his sparkling gaze.

"Alright. Leave before I discover my boots don't fit and blame you for that, too.”

Jon nodded solemnly and said, "Of course, my Queen. I live to serve you."

She snorted, head shaking as he backed away toward the door. She retorted, "You are a menace."

He didn't deny it and simply said, "Only for you."

Read here

#jonerys fanart #thank you so much #I adore you and wish all the good things for you #jonerys fanfic #fanfic #jonerys #fanfiction #writing #ao3fic #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #king jon #queen daenerys #fluff and romance #smut and fluff #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #Livingston - Half Life Song Lyrics

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actual-changeling · 1 year

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This post is something that can actually be so personal and no I am not done talking about it. There's a whole concept behind it and the fucking hair ties are just one way of channeling it but oh boy is it a good one. This works so well with the hair braiding too and i cannot think about it to much or i will spontaneously combust, but I had to so I hope you enjoy the result of it.

Joel has a hair tie on his wrist because Ellie forgets to take a spare and when the first one breaks or she loses it somehow, he can offer it to her before her hair becomes an annoyance.

He has one because she gives it to him sometimes when they're laying on the couch and her ponytail makes resting her head on a pillow or against his chest uncomfortable. At times she also takes it out simply because her scalp is especially sensitive that day and the constant pull becomes painful after a while. There's always another one in his jacket pocket, too, so when Ellie asks him for braids afterward or allows him to do her hair he isn't limited to simpler styles.

It starts with hair ties in Jackson but there are months of different acts preceding it.

Joel carried whatever he could for her, taking more than necessary sometimes because the slim line of her shoulders being weighed down by her backpack made his heart ache even when he couldn't admit it to himself back then, not at first at least. There are water bottles, sweatshirts she cannot quite fit into hers that day, all of their food, whatever first aid materials he can find, even a spare bar of soap.

Then he starts carrying hair ties once they get to Jackson and suddenly he needs to keep a brush on him, too, and with the brush comes a comb and with the comb comes a hat and with the hat comes a homemade creme he traded for since her hands are uncomfortably dry sometimes (she never said so but he knows her), and after that what started as a small piece of twisted fabric turns into him carry a bag around that is filled with everything his brain thinks Ellie might require at some point. Sure, maybe he is being a little bit overprotective and maybe Tommy jokes about getting him a purse several times, but he can offer her sunscreen and a bottle of water during summer, he gives her gloves and a scarf in winter when she doesn't remember to put them on before leaving, there's always one of her books in a side pocket, too, and as soon as he finds her a new one, her Walkman gets an especially safe place in his bag.

And yes, he fusses over her a little bit too much, maybe even to the point of being smothering sometimes (she always tells him to back off when that happens and he does without complaint), but Ellie grew up utterly alone and without someone to look after her for fourteen years, she deserves to know what it is like to be cared about by someone. Whatever she asks for, whatever she needs, he gives it to her even when she could walk home and come back with the thing in question in less than ten minutes. There's always a snack, a spare sweatshirt in case she gets cold, space for the one she takes off when she gets too warm, a small sketchbook and a pencil both as a distraction and so she can draw whenever she feels like it.

No one pays any attention to it, and while Tommy softly teases him about it from time to time, the smile that blooms on Ellie's face when he quietly gives her something she needs based on nothing but hardwired instincts before the words leave her mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

Joel might not be good with words, but he continues to carry a bag and hands her little pieces of his love time and time again, hoping she can put the puzzle together, hoping she knows.

Ellie does the same, hoping Joel notices it, hoping he knows what it means, that with every time she tells him to rest, every cup of coffee on his nightstand, every night spent in his bed when she wakes to the mere suggestion of a nightmare and brushes them away before they can settle so she can put herself in their place instead, every trashy action movie she borrows from the library for their weekly movie night, every handmade guitar pick she gifts him, every single gesture she does not have to do but does regardless because she wants to, she is saying I love you, too.

They notice, they care, they willing hand over carefully chosen parts of themselves and the puzzle they piece together is one and the same, because paying attention to things is how they show love and it is oh so easy when there is nothing to look at but each other.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams #fanfic #miller family #episode 3 reference because i go insane over half the lines they say fucking craig i hate you i hate you what did you do to my brain #also i finally got the bill and frank strawberry shirt and i am wearing it right now and i am in love #two old gay men living a happy life in the apocalypse is actually so defining to me as a lesbian #does that make sense probably not but its true #anyway inbox open as always it is easier to write you something if it's related to my current brain rot topic but i get to everything #eventually i just wanna do it properly

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