#(but this is a reverse scenario of that so)

[kaciebello]

hi! i binged your Slytherin boys content in a day and i have stitches from laughing!

i was wondering if you could do a scenario where the boys find almost half their clothes missing and they find out that the reader has taken it either for a prank or because they miss them?

Missing clothes

Slytherin boys texts genre: crack warning: none note: I'm so funny, i know Navigation Masterlist

Taglist

@klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys , @wnbweasley, @africancracker , @broadwaybaby123, @stardustsymphony , @romantasyreader28, @chelawrites , @catching-fire-in-the-wind , @hecate-frenchfries

[lesser-vissir]

Oooh, so close but you didn't get it at all 😞

Please read Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins (revised 2000 edition) then try again <3

To summarize for you, she introduces the concept of the "matrix of domination" which is a useful tool for explaining the various ways different axis of oppression intersect and interplay in systems of power, showing how oppression is multidimensional.

Under this system, we can understand that along the axis of race, you, a white trans woman, oppress people of color, but that conversely, people of color who are cis, oppress you on the axis of cissexism.

Under this understanding of oppression, there is no "heirarchy" wherein one person oppressing another excludes the ability for those roles to reverse depending on the context of the scenario. As such, you being racist is not cancelled out by being a trans woman, nor is transmisogyny cancelled out by being a person of color.

It's unhelpful and non-intersectional to think of multi-marginalization providing "bonuses" to oppression, or of any one oppression being "the worst" or even "worse" compared to others. Hope this helps girl

I simply do not understand why so many nominally progressive people are so attached to the idea that there is a clear cut, simple answer to who is the oppressor and who is the oppressed that can be derived purely from identity politics.

Like, identity politics will help inform that determination but the context of the scenario is just as important. There is no amount of marginalization that erases one's capability to harm people who are marginalized in other ways.

I know it's just a lack of theory driving this but c'mon it's like pulling teeth with you people.

[lenbear]

Shrunken Partner Part 1

NOTES: Hello, This is my own take on a G/t scenario with Viktor and Jayce. My drawings are based on this situation. Please note that it has been a very long time since I wrote a story or a fanfic so my grammar may be a bit wonky here and there. I am not sure how many parts I will do for this but I hope you enjoy it.

———————————

“So how did you get this small?”

Viktor looked up at Jayce with a slightly shocked look. He was currently on the table of their lab, reading over the notes that they have compiled in the last few days of researching the shrinking effect the Arcane crystals had. It's been about a week since Jayce found him in his blown-up apartment shrunken to 8cm. He was honestly shocked the man didn't ask sooner. Maybe he thought it was rude? 

“After you were taken away to your cell and other guards left, I stayed to look around more.” Viktor looked back to the notes. “I was reading over your notes and the blackboard. Then I found some more Arcane crystals hidden away under a few beams and rubble, and they must have been affected by the explosion, since as soon as I touched them the world spun and went black. It must have taken a toll on my body because when I woke up, I was tired, groggy and lightheaded. I then saw you pondering on the edge of the hole in the wall.” 

Jayce remembers the night well.

—

He was about to jump, to end it all when he heard a small accented voice. “Am I interrupting?”. It shocked him and he looked around and stepped away from the edge. He didn’t see anyone then he heard more noises when he took a few steps. It kinda sounded like shouting. He remembers turning on a torch and seeing the tiny man at his feet. Just centimetres from his shoe. 

He couldn’t believe it. There was no way this was real. Jayce’s mind raced with disbelief but the closer he looked at the tiny man, he had to admit, he was so cute. His scrunched up face in annoyance and anger but Jayce froze when he saw fear as well. The tiny yells pulled him out of his head. Without thinking, Jayce bent down and picked up the 8cm tall man with Viktor letting out a tiny yelp. When he looked closer he realised that he recognised him. Assistant to the dean of the academy? That’s what he said right? But he was nowhere near this small a day or so ago! 

Jayce was so shocked he nearly fainted and could only muster an apology, feeling guilt for nearly stepping on the man and for haphazardly picking him up. He was so light. He fit perfectly in one hand but he held the tiny man gently with two and now that he was closer he could definitely see how cute he was. Past all the apologies and the fear on both parts, they conversed. Jayce learned that the man’s name was Viktor. Jayce sat on the edge of the hole in the wall to be lower to the ground for the tiny man. Surely it would feel like he was hundreds of metres above the ground. The two men had their heart to heart about the potential of hextech, changing the world and the idea of helping each other and the people. Why Jayce didn’t ask about his tiny height then, he wasn’t sure.

—

“That was a long time to be out in that empty apartment. I'm just glad I found you before something else did…” Jayce looked down at his partner with worry in his eyes. The idea of animals or someone else finding an unconscious tiny man scared him. It was a long time for Viktor to be out cold and shrunken.

“And eh.. before you stepped on me.” Viktor gave a small smirk to his giant partner. Jayce couldn’t help but wince. He tried not to think about that. 

“Yeah, yeah. I apologized...” He sighed. “I just cannot believe that the crystals reacted that way due to the explosion. That they too didn't explode. Instead.. Shrinking you.” he thought hard. Was there another factor he was missing?

“It is only a theory of why but the most logical answer.” Viktor said thoughtfully. “It is definitely an unexpected surprise but I'm sure our minds can come up with a way to reverse the effect.” Viktor tried to be optimistic. “I know that I much rather be back to my own height and change my clothes.” Viktor looked down at himself and grimaced. The man had been wearing the same ones since he’s been shrunken down. The only times he’s taken them off was when Jayce washed them and the whole time he would stay hidden from Jayce until they were dry, which took hours some days. 

Jayce always feared he’d rip Viktor’s clothes if he were to wash them too hard. They were so small and delicate. Much like his new partner.  

Jayce thought back to the day his apartment was searched. Seeing the very man in front of him, at normal height. Still shorter than himself. Seeing a mischievous glint in the man's amber eyes when he told Jayce he was considered dangerous. He did find him attractive when he saw him, which was a weird feeling. He doesn't remember a time where he felt another man was attractive. Thinking another man was.. Cute. Now that that man was so small that feeling grew more. 

“We really need to make you clothes. I have a feeling that this size issue is going to last a bit longer than we hope.” 

Viktor shot him a look of annoyance but he then sighed and looked down at himself. 

“You're right. As much as I don't want to admit it, you're right. We have no clue how long this will last. Days, months.. Years..?” The man hugged himself. He did not want this to last that long. 

Viktor practically jumped when he felt a large warm presence on his back. Jayce rested two fingers on his back and gently rubbed up and down. The giant man was so warm. He yearned for that warmth. 

“It's going to be ok Vik. We'll take this one day at a time.” Jayce gave a gentle and comforting smile. “Why not come to my house tonight? Beats the cold lab right?” As much as Viktor wanted to decline, he felt it was a bit intruding to go and sleep in someone else’s house, especially when he only met the man about a week ago and that he is staying at his mother’s house due to the council’s decision. He had to accept. The lab has been getting colder, and even though he has a way to keep warm, the atmosphere of the lab is cold. It’s empty. Lifeless. Unlike the giant man in front of him who felt like a furnace itself. Not to mention that Viktor has been awake a lot during the night to try and work on how to grow back.

”Mh.. Fine. It might do some good to get away from the lab. Clear… my head.” Viktor looked to the side, away from Jayce. It was hard not to blush when the huge man was staring at him like he was a magical fairy.

Jayce smiled wide. “That’s the spirit! Time away will do wonders for you, I’m sure of it!” He knew Viktor wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. He could see the growing dark circles under his gold amber eyes. Not that he was trying to stare at Viktor’s eyes and noting how beautiful they were. Not at all.

—

The two spent the next few hours going over their rune combinations, equations and probabilities. Thanks to Viktor they were able to sneak a few things away from Heimerdinger’s lab before they were destroyed. Using that equipment, they were able to try some tests on some plants with terrible results. Feeling defeated, the two decided to call it for the day. Jayce packing up the gear and hiding the crystals that they recovered.

Jayce was so thankful that the council decided that he was ok to keep attending the Academy. Thanks to the good word of his sponsors, his mother, Heimerdinger and how Mel saw potential in him. He still had to live at home with his mother but he was at least able to have a lab to continue his real academy studies. Not that he has been doing them.

But now, the awkward part..

”Um, so I’ll have to um.. Pick you up..” Jayce got nervous. Ever since their first meeting and when he was able to go to his new lab, he hasn’t really held Viktor. He’d bring everything Viktor needed straight to him, placing all things in front of the man. He grew more nervous, he was going to hold him again. He still remembers the weight his body created in his hands. How soft he was, how light he was, how he felt as light as a pen. Seeing how small his cane is, like a toothpick. “Would you rather I just.. pick you up? Or did you want to crawl into my hands..?” 

Viktor looked up to the giant man in front of him. He tried hard not to crack a smile at how flustered he looked. “Hmm.. Well I suppose it would be best to be picked up but.. eh, I still want some dignity. I will try and crawl onto your hands. Lay them flat.”

Jayce did so, putting both his hands flat in front of the tiny man. Both of them froze looking at the size difference between Jayce’s hands and Viktor’s miniature body. They didn’t move for a solid minute before Viktor slowly walked towards the hands. Being so small, he could see every detail. They were a little dirty from the day’s experiments but that didn’t really bother the small man. He slowly placed his bad foot on the squishy flesh of Jayce’s fingers and tried to get on but fell forward due to the pain in his leg. Jayce immediately scooped him up as he caught his partner. Being as gentle as he can possibly be. 

”Are you ok Viktor!?” His hazel eyes looked over the doll-sized man. Checking for injuries, especially his leg. “Is your leg ok? Why did you step on my hand with it?”

”I.. eh, thought your hand would have been soft enough for it not to hurt. I.. didn’t really think.” He looked away with a blush. He wasn’t sure why he would have thought he would have been fine stepping on his hand like that. Viktor was shocked when he was suddenly lifted to Jayce’s face. He took in every detail, feeling the warm breath wash over him.

”You need to be careful. I know you’re not a fragile porcelain doll but you’re so small that if something did happen, I’d struggle to help you..” Jayce said with a soft tone lined with worry. He looked like a sad puppy. 

Viktor looked at him with slightly wide eyes, trying to hide his true expression. “Ah, well, thank you Jayce. I’ll be sure to be careful.” He pet Jayce’s fingers under him. Trying to calm the giant down. “I will be fine.”

“Ok. Good. Let’s get going then.” Jayce’s smile came back as he packed his journals into a small bag with one of his hands then left the room. He was sure to lock everything before he left. He was very cautious of who was in the hallways and tried to stay away from people. Jayce held Viktor close to his chest to hide him when he did in fact get close to someone. He tried to act natural but did tend to give off a nervous vibe. Which even Viktor picked up on. As well as Sir Heimerdinger.

”Jayce! M’boy! On your way home this fine evening?” The Yordle looked up at the young man in front of him. He was very happy that Jayce took his advice at the trial. He didn’t want to lose one of his favourite students. He was a bit curious about the nervous vibe from him.

Jayce froze when he ran into Heimerdinger. He knows that the Dean has been searching for his assistant for nearly a week. It only added pressure to his conversation because this time, unlike the other times he’s spoken to the professor, he actually was holding who he was looking for. 

“Oh! Uh, I am doing well! Spent the day catching up on my studies! You know, since I fell behind due to my stupid dream.” Jayce inwardly cringed. He hated lying like this and talking about his life’s work in such a way.

”Splendid! Good to hear m’boy! I cannot wait to see the end product of your studies.” The older man noticed the way Jayce had his hand cupped over his chest. “What do you have there?” 

Jayce’s blood went cold and his heartbeat increased. Oh no. What does he say? He even felt Viktor freeze up at the question. “Uh, n-nothing professor! Just uh..” He didn’t know what to say. He could see the suspicion growing on the man’s face. He was freaking out. That was until he felt the small man against his chest move. He could feel him slipping into his shirt, able to slip between the fabric of his scarf and under shirt. He should be hidden. Jayce moved his hand slowly away from his chest. No proof that there was even a tiny man there. “Just had a bit of a sore chest, is all. I just need some rest after today and some dinner.” 

Heimerdinger was still a little curious but he quickly smiled. “Well that’s all good then! Well done for your work Jayce.” The man started to go on his merry way before stopping and looking at Jayce again. “By any chance, have you seen any signs of my assistant? Lanky fellow, a bit shorter than you, has a cane?” 

You could say he was a bit shorter.. “Can’t say that I have, professor. I’m sorry.” Jayce felt his heartbeat quicken again. It was like he was smuggling the Dean’s assistant around.

”That’s alright. If you do see him, please let me know. I worry for that boy.” The Yordle Dean continued on his way through the halls. Leaving Jayce (and Viktor) alone in the hallway. 

Jayce felt Viktor move to poke his head out but Jayce moved him back. “Stay in there. Just in case someone else walks by.” Viktor sighed and did as he was told. The rest of the walk was uneventful. 

—

Jayce got to his mother’s home and quietly snuck in. Viktor was sticking his head out from behind the scarf after he heard the door close. This was his mother’s home? He immediately felt the warmth of the home based on the warm lights, the smell of a home cooked meal and the pictures on the walls. All of a young boy and a woman, some with an older man too. 

Jayce walked through the house, keeping an eye out for his mother. He quickly realised that she was in the kitchen with their hired maid. He quickly went up the stairs but before he made it halfway, his mother called out. 

“Jayce? Is that you?” She smiled. She missed having her son back home. “Come down, dinner is already ready for you.” Jayce sighed and looked down at Viktor. He knew he needed to get him to his room but his mother’s calls couldn’t be ignored. “Jayce? Did you hear me?”

”Yes mother! I’m coming!” He lowered his shoulders. “Sorry Vik. She’d get suspicious if I ignored her.” Viktor was about to argue but Jayce gently pushed him back under his scarf and shirt. “I’ll get you some food. Don’t worry.” He made his way to the dining room where a stew sat ready for him on the table. He could immediately tell that his mother was the one who made this. He sat down across from Ximena and started to eat his dinner. Making light conversation with his mother.

__

Viktor sighed and slouched into the crevice made in the shirt and scarf. It was so warm in Jayce’s shirt. The man’s body was already a furnace and having all the layers of the Academy uniform was not helping. Though it was very soft and comfortable. The constant sound of Jayce’s heartbeat was comforting and soothing. It was almost enough to make him go to sleep. He was still so tired from last night's studies of the crystals and possible ways to reverse the effect on himself. The vibrations of Jayce speaking to his mother also went right through him. It was subtle and it felt good. Like a gentle massage.

Viktor felt very conflicted. Was it the right decision to come to Jayce’s home? Was it better if he stayed in the lab? He’s only ever been in the lab or Jayce’s destroyed apartment. It was a bit nerve wracking being outside of the places he has known. Especially since there are other giants around and that it was Jayce’s family home. But he knew that he couldn’t stay in that cold lab. It wasn’t good for his already bad health. 

He chose to just snuggle into the warmth, feeling Jayce flinch slightly at his sudden movement. He truly wished that this size issue won’t last too long but deep down he knew that it would take longer than he anticipated. His eyelids grew heavy and before he knew it, he was sound asleep against his new partner’s chest. All snuggled up in the fabric of his shirt and scarf. Hidden from the outside world.

—

Jayce thanked his mother for dinner and went up to his old room, holding a small bowl of stew in his hands. His room still had all his childhood posters of magic hanging up but it also had some new ideas and concepts of his work hanging with them. He closed his bedroom door and locked it. He did not want the maid or his mother to walk in when Viktor was out. Speaking of which..

”Hey Vik, sorry about that.” He started to undo the buttons of his vest. “I didn’t mean to push you back there. I just didn’t want to risk suspicion from my mother.” He grew confused and worried when he heard and felt no movement. “V-Viktor?” He quickly removed his scarf and froze. He looked down at a sleeping Viktor. He seemed to be in a deep deep sleep. He held onto Jayce’s shirt for comfort. Jayce’s face went as red as the scarf in his hands.

What does he do? He doesn’t want to wake Viktor, he probably had a few rough nights and.. he looked so cute. Sleeping soundly. As if nothing was wrong with the world. Jayce looked at his bed then back to Viktor. He doesn’t want to wake Viktor so he can get changed, it wasn’t worth it. Jayce places the bowl of stew on his desk and his journal before walking to his bed. He at least takes off his shoes before slipping into the covers. Still wearing his Academy uniform. He lays on his back and gently lays his hand protectively over his sleeping partner. Still none the wiser of the position he’s put Jayce in. 

Jayce cannot help but smile. As weird as the situation was of his now hex-tech partner being the size of a doll, he was happy that the magic of the Arcane did not hurt Viktor. If a life was lost due to the explosion or another damaging effect from the crystals, he wouldn’t know what to do. He was happy Viktor was relatively safe. Especially being in his arms, or hands. 

“Sleep well Viktor.” With that Jayce closed his eyes and went to sleep. 

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[a-thousand-pots]

[Uncharitable-ness warning. I tried to write a charitable version of this response but it wasn’t getting my ideas across properly so I’m settling for this. Although I accept some degree of getting clowned on in exchange for posting in this way, please go somewhat easy 🙏]

[low confidence]

This reads like someone who intuitively ‘knows’ that the Sun orbits the Earth claiming that there must be an error in astronomical calculations. Sometimes unintuitive things are true! I’m not claiming that this one in particular is true, but making claims about the net morality of the natural world is really really hard. There’s a lot going on there, and I think that big claims like ‘the natural world is good’ are absolutely not something we should accept on the basis of intuition alone, which is obviously going to be extremely skewed in this scenario (since humans can’t survive without it).

To be clear - I don’t necessarily think that the natural world without humans is net bad. But I also don’t think that we can trivially say the reverse.

I’m interested in arguments that argue that the natural world (without humans) is good, I can maybe be persuaded. Some other questions I’m also interested in exploring:

- would this claim (‘the natural world is good’) hold for all possible natural worlds, or just ours?

- if humanity were to go extinct in a year and leave the biosphere behind, are there any changes to it you would want humanity to make to it before we went extinct? Or would you want to leave it as unchanged as possible? Is the ‘unchanged-ness’ part of goal for you?

Theres a flavor of rationalist who sees all the suffering the natural world and concludes that if we knew humanity was going to go extinct we should torch the biosphere first, so the biosphere doesn't go on being a ball of suffering forever. And this is a perfectly consistent position, most animal lives are pretty bad. But I think it's the sort of position that should make you realize you've made an error somewhere. Like, when you derive a formula, you check it on a known example, to see if you made a mistake. Or in physics, you know if your logic leads to a result that breaks conservation of energy or momentum, you've gone wrong. And this is that, for ethics. "The natural world is a good thing to exist" should (imo, obviously you're ALLOWED to believe otherwise) be one of your check-examples. And if you end up concluding that the natural world is bad, then you know you have an error somewhere.

[whumpypepsigal]

The Night Agent s02e03: “You’re safe. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

[swordmaid]

thinking about how the bear pit is rlly an amalgamation of brienne’s insecurities and fears - everyone laughing at her (the whole spectacle), making a mockery of her gender and appearance (the pink dress), making a mockery of her physical prowess (wooden sword) then jaime coming down there to protect her and take her away from all of that. that whole ordeal being so significant that in her nightmares she’s hoping and calling for jaime to save her and take her away, and the fact that she even remembers the sound of jaime’s boots hitting the sand when he jumped down the pit for her im so ill

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

and when the machine herald stands over jayce like this in act 3, what then

[canisalbus]

So i remember an ask mentioning your mortal enemy, Felis Atra and their cats, and i thought it'd be fun to draw what Felis Atra's version of your italian dogs would be.

I think they would be called Butter Knife and Flamengo! Butter Knife is not his real name, it's an nickname given by his peers because of how harmless he is. I choose Flamengo because that's the name of Vasco's rival football team here in Brazil, so i thought that was the perfect name :)

Cat Machete was slightly inspired by the Oriental Shorthair cat because of their long noses and thin head shape.

Cat Vasco was inspired by the Scottish Fold cat, because FLOPPY EARS. I gave Flamengo longer ears and orange fur to make him more like his look-alike.

The last doodle is a reference to this ask (https://canisalbus.tumblr.com/post/728923918314946560/me-i-am-machete-ear-fan-number-1-those-ears) and contains the tumblr ask stand-in dog, whose cat version was inspired by the American Curl cat! They have round ears that are slightly floppy outwards.

Final notes: I know cardinal clothes don't come in vibrant blue, but i was ADAMANT on switching Machete's and Vasco's clothing color patterns. I would draw the rest of Butter Knife's and Flamengo's clothes, but i suck at designing cool outfits.

Speaking of outfits, for Machete's iconic void outfit, i figured it would be fun to make it more baggy for Butter Knife, in contrast to Machete's, that looks very tight-fitted. I think it's cute, it kinda looks like a sweater. Also i can't imagine a Machete doppelganger without high heels boots, so those HAD to stay.

Oh, and just to be clear, i'm not like, claiming ownership of these guys or anything. I just thought it would be a fun exercise. Hope you like them!! I love your art and your characters.

.

[daily-hanamura]

[u3pxx]

[bad omens] you know how it is with me and body swaps and roleswaps orz

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

[night-triumphantt]

This is how I imagine the reveal of sev and nikki being back together is going to go

[wildsaltair]

This Fragile Vessel

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort and romance, with a few tiny hints of spice)

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: Thank y'all so much for all your kind words on my past fics :) It's such a joy getting to write about Maximus, and I love sharing these fics with people who enjoy them. This is another of my favorite pieces, sort of a companion / sequel piece to "Stalking Tiger," but it's a self-explanatory standalone. It's part of a larger narrative (everything is the same except Maximus was single AU) in which reader is a slave sent to entertain Maximus in the gladiator school, but they end up falling madly in love and kind of living in agony day to day worrying that something will happen to the other. This takes place at some time during that doomed love affair, and it's got all my usual self-indulgent daydreams wrapped up in it. I hope y'all enjoy :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Four endless days pass in the cold, dark room of the gladiator school to which you are assigned when your cough grows so severe that you can barely stand upright anymore. Four days pass in a blur of fever, chills, coughing spells, unconsciousness, and the fear that this blank dark ceiling will be the last sight you ever see.

The sickness would not bother you so much on its own. What troubles you most is that you cannot see the Spaniard in all that time.

Ever since you were brought to serve in the gladiator school, fulfilling any slave’s job that needed doing, your love for the Spaniard has only strengthened. Your nights together — though dictated by how well Maximus performs in the arena, and how often Proximo thinks you should be allowed to spend the night with the Spaniard — have intensified the passion and tenderness you feel for one another, and your days are less miserable. As always, the gloomy threat of your love’s death in the arena looms like a cloud overhead, but the joyful nights you spend in his arms serve to help you both keep your minds off your fears.

But your symptoms have only worsened in the chilly stone halls of the gladiator school. What started as a mere cough has escalated to dizzy spells and fevers, which resulted in the slave master sending you to one of the sickbays until you recover.

Now four days have passed. You wonder if Maximus even knows what has happened to you. You have no way to send him word.

You wonder often if you will die; if these coughs are the final sighs of your lungs, if your bouts of unconsciousness are your first forays into the depths of death. You often awaken unable to breathe, unable to speak or move. Though the symptoms have just begun to improve slightly, you are still so weak and depleted of energy that you cannot imagine how you will recover.

And what will happen to your lover if you die? You have both come to terms with the idea that his life is in the most danger. He has made no secret of the fact that you are his reason for living, and that he will have no other reason if something happens to you.

It troubles you. What will become of your beloved if you die?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the fifth night, joy itself visits your cold, dark, lonely room.

The jangle of keys alerts you to an incoming visitor, but you are so weak that you cannot even open your eyes and turn your head.

The heavy door slides open, footsteps cross the room quickly, and a moment later, a warm hand is caressing your forehead with the gentleness of a feather.

You open your eyes, and the first thing you see is the face of your beloved, gazing down at you with eyes that speak to his mixed worry and relief.

“My love,” Maximus breathes, focused blue eyes darting across your face. He’s kneeling beside your bed, one hand stroking your forehead and the other resting uncertainly on the blanket, as if he is not sure if he should touch you.

Your heart leaps with joy at the sight of him. Five days, and at last he is close enough to touch again. You lift a hand to try, but your strength fails you.

He immediately moves his other hand and catches yours, pulling it close to press his lips against the back of your hand. He closes his eyes, lets his warm lips linger on your cold skin.

“You’re here,” you whisper, your voice little more than a rasp. Trying to speak is gratingly painful in your ragged lungs. “I am so glad.”

The Spaniard hears the way you struggle to speak, and he immediately leans forward, stroking your forehead with his thumb and gazing into your eyes with such earnestness that your heart flips over in your chest.

“Do not try to speak,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand again. “Save your strength. Save your breath,” he adds when he notices the labored rise and fall of your chest.

You smile faintly up at him, so overwhelmed with the joy of seeing him again that you can barely think of the pain in your chest.

“How did you get here?” you ask softly, squeezing his hand.

His gaze roams over your face, clearly worried that you are going to continue speaking whether you should or not. “After five days,” he tells you quietly, “I could not stand it any longer. They would not tell me if you lived. I told Proximo I would not raise a hand in the arena again until I had seen you and made sure you were well.”

The story brings another smile to your lips, imagining your love making one of his very few demands to the master of the gladiator school.

“I am so glad,” you tell him honestly, and his face softens as you gaze up at him with adoring eyes. “It does me good to see you.”

The Spaniard tries to return your smile, but you can read the worry on his face. Seeing you so fragile and ill is not what he hoped to find, you know, and you can only imagine how he will worry after he has to leave.

A sharp cough racks your lungs, much to your chagrin, shaking your entire body. Maximus' eyes darken with worry, and he immediately moves to sit on the edge of your bed, one leg curled beneath him. He pulls you into his arms, one hand stroking your back soothingly while you catch your breath.

“I’m here,” he whispers gently, his mouth close to your ear. “I have you now.”

Just being close to him comforts you in ways you cannot express. You fall bonelessly into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder while one of his strong arms stays wrapped around your waist. Sitting upright makes breathing less painful.

“I am so glad you came,” you whisper once your breath comes a bit easier. “So glad you are here with me.”

He draws a shaky breath, one that you feel where his body is pressed against yours. “I would have come sooner,” he promises, “but I was not allowed.” His voice is tight, resentful. You know how much Maximus despises being a slave, having his every move dictated and policed.

You nod in understanding, just rejoicing in the fact that he is here now. His body is warm against yours, bringing a pleasant heat to your chilled bones. His fingers carefully trace up and down your spine, feeling the too-pronounced notches in your spine through the thin shift you are wearing.

“Do they know what is wrong with you?” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your shoulder. You instinctively lift your hands to hold him, managing to rest them against his ribs.

You shake your head slightly, letting your cheek rest against his. His beard scratches against your cheek marvelously.

“No,” you reply. “Some sort of fever. I have been burning up for the last few days, but now the chills have set in. I get dizzy and fall unconscious, then cough until my lungs feel like they are bleeding. I am exhausted, but I cannot sleep. I am losing my strength, but I cannot eat.”

“I can tell,” he remarks, concern tinging his voice. His fingers are exploring the sharpness of your shoulder blades. “I can feel your bones.”

He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulls away from you slightly so he can look at you. His gaze softens, melts when he gazes deep into your eyes. One hand continues to stroke your back calmingly, while the other caresses your cheek.

“I worry for you, beloved,” he whispers, leaning forward to touch his lips against yours. “You feel so fragile. I worry your strength will give out.”

His lips come to rest now against the corner of your mouth, and you smile in response. “My strength has returned to me,” you whisper gently, stroking his ribs with your fingertips. “It walked in the door just a moment ago.”

A wave of emotion seems to overcome him, one that he had been hiding until now, and he dips his head to rest in the crook of your neck. He gathers you close, not squeezing you tightly but holding you close to his chest while he breathes in your scent.

“Would that I could take it from you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Would that I could bear your burdens.”

You summon the strength to raise a hand and touch the back of his neck, where his muscles are tight and strained. Your touch elicits a soft sound from him, a relaxing of his muscles, and he cuddles you even closer in his arms.

“You ease them,” you assure him, kissing the top of his ear affectionately. “That is better than bearing them.”

He breathes, slow and deep, against your neck, then touches his lips very softly to the column of your throat. He pauses there, feeling the weakened pulse of your blood.

“All I want is for you to be well,” he whispers, lips brushing your throat in a way that makes you shiver. So many of your dreams have been haunted by the memory of his lips on your skin, his hands coaxing gasps from you, your bodies so thoroughly entwined that you fell asleep as though one person. Such pleasures seem far away and very close at the same time now, with this different, heightened intimacy.

“And so I will be,” you promise him softly. Your fingers tangle in his hair at the base of his neck, caressing his warm skin to relax him further. “Now that I have seen you, I am reminded of why I must get well quickly.”

He sighs, then shifts you in his arms. Carefully, he lays you on your back, settling your head against the pillow with the greatest delicacy. Again, your blood surges at the memory of the last time he did this — in his bed, to settle himself between your legs and kiss every inch of your bare skin.

A moment later, his large hand is pressed flat against your chest, directly over your heart. He pauses, listening or feeling for a sound.

“Your heart beats so fast,” he murmurs in concern, still leaning forward so your faces are close.

You manage another smile, resting your hand on his chest to mirror his actions. “As it always does when I am close to you,” you tease him, then pause when another coughing spell knocks you breathless.

You despise the worried look on his face, knowing that seeing you this way will haunt him. You wish you could put on a brave face and convince him that all is well, but he is too perceptive.

“Your lungs,” he says softly, his gaze falling to your chest as though he can see through you. “They are choking the life out of you. I have seen it before.”

With his soldiers, no doubt. And no doubt he has seen many soldiers die from such an illness.

You are too breathless and pained to respond, so you simply nod and close your eyes, tilting your head back while you gasp for another breath.

A moment later, he has opened your shift, baring you to the waist in the cold air. You shiver deeply, but a moment later, his warm hands are spread over your chest, rubbing in a rhythm that is both vigorous and gentle.

“I have seen it before,” he repeats quietly, eyes locked on your face while he massages your chest muscles. “If your lungs can loosen up, you will breathe easier.”

You have to fight the urge to cough sharply the harder he presses, but you gradually realize that his ministrations are indeed helping. Your chest does not feel as tight, nor your breath as constricted.

You wish this were a different moment. You wish he were undressing you and touching the swell of your chest with lovemaking in mind. You would give anything for a simple moment to submit to him like this, to surrender to his passionate touches and kisses. But this is not that moment, and for right now, you are grateful that you can even draw a full breath.

He continues to rub circles on your upper chest, watching you carefully the whole time for any reaction. When you finally have caught your wind and begun to breathe at a normal rhythm, he slows down.

“Is that better?” he murmurs, thumbs stroking your skin affectionately.

You nod breathlessly, gazing deep into his blue eyes with all the love and adoration you feel for him. “Yes,” you manage to whisper, but no other words will come.

You stay like that for a silent moment, he transfixed by the rhythm of your breathing and you mesmerized by his intensity, his tenderness, the intimacy of him leaning over you this way, trying to catch your every breath as though each was a precious treasure to him.

Then, knowing his time with you is coming to a close, the Spaniard leans forward a bit more, touching his cheek against yours. One hand still presses onto your chest, measuring your heartbeat, while the other cards through your hair. His fingers on your scalp are so gentle, so pleasurable, that all you can do is sigh.

“It tears me apart to have to leave you this way,” he whispers into your jaw, which he kisses with the softest delicacy.

You tilt your head to nuzzle him fondly, soaking up his sweet presence as you slowly begin to feel your consciousness slipping away. “Not for long,” you tell him.

Another tender kiss to your cheek, and he pushes himself up, one hand still protectively touching your heart. “I will try to come back,” he promises. “Tomorrow, if they will let me.”

You nod, smiling up at him through the dizziness that sweeps over you. “I will be well soon,” you rasp. “I will come back to you very soon.”

He closes his eyes for a moment when you reach up to touch his face softly. The brush of your fingertips seems to bring him near to coming undone, and he clenches his jaw to hide the emotion.

“I will be thinking of you every moment,” he vows. “Every heartbeat will remind me of you. Every breath.”

Your smile only softens further, and he finally returns it, clearly trying to be strong for you and comfort you. Wordlessly, he reaches to close your tunic back up, lacing the strings easily as he has done many times in the intimacy of his bed.

“There,” he whispers when he has finished, and he strokes your forehead one last time as blackness tugs at the edges of your vision. “Now you should rest.”

You nod, and as if on cue, the guard pounds on the door to let him know that it is time to leave. A thousand years with him would never be enough, but these few moments in his arms have restored your strength beyond reason.

He hesitates, not wanting to leave you. “Stay strong, my love,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. “Take some of my strength and make it your own.”

Blinking back your unconsciousness, you smile up at him, warmth spreading through your body, and he pushes himself off the edge of your bed to follow the insistent guard out of the room.

One more quick look over his shoulder — one that simply reiterates the deep love and devotion he feels for you, the loyalty and protectiveness and tenderness and passion — and Maximus is gone out the door.

But even once he is gone and sleep is tugging you into its dark and dreamless realm, you are warmed by the memory of his touch, and eased by the strength of his hands, and cheered by the joy of his presence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[slushiebrain]

since i did traditional art last year and since i've started studying again and so have less free time, this year i'm doing pale gamkar week a little differently than my usual art (in the hopes it'll save me some time ; -- ;) i'm aiming for a little more cartoony and a whole lot sillier! i didn't have time to draw yesterday so today i'm posting both day 1 and day 2 of @pale-gamkar-week 2024 prompts: laughter and bath!

i might do full colours for these at some point but this is as good as it gets for now lol

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s1e12 Screwdriver | Cold Open