#i did not!! need!! a new!! hyperfixation!!!!

[starfox017]

Life Series College AU

Hi guys! This is my first time ever writing fanfiction! (i'm fueled by the hyperfixation) and I wanted to share the very first bit of the Life Series College AU I wrote! ---

Alright New school You’ve done this before But this is different right? I mean college, that’s a BIG deal. Will you know anyone here? Well, of course you will. Pearl’s here, and so is Mumbo. Maybe I’ll find other friends too.

I feel a fist punch my shoulder and I flinch at the impact, only to see Pearl on my right side skipping along the sidewalk. “Hey! Stop being so much in your brain, brain is bad. It’s college, you have got nothing to worry about. No one knows you here, it’s a brand new experience, with brand new people!”

“Yeah but—” I can feel the binder pressing against my chest, all the air starts to leave my lungs. “No buts!” Pearl turns in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “Just breathe. Okay? If anyone messes with you, just call me, okay? Now get in there, and make a good first impression! What’s your first class?”

“I- I think it's the history of architecture?” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. I roll my shoulder back and stick my head up and fill myself with fake confidence. My words taste artificial, and my brain is filled with lies. Pearl and I stroll into class together, having the same class. She leaves me to sit across the room.

“This is for your own good. You need to be your own person, make your own friends.” I sit alone in an empty room, way too early for class. I fiddle with my fingers and start to pick at the dry skin around my nails. I wince at the slight pain of removing a hangnail, and see a drop of blood appear. Shit. I stick my finger in my mouth and try to remove the blood so no one notices. People begin to enter the room, sparcing themselves everywhere. I turn to stare at Pearl. From across the room she gives me a thumbs up with a warm smile. I quickly take the finger out of my mouth and give a thumbs up back, a fake smile plastered across my face.

“Why hello there!” “AAAH!” A voice startles me from behind, appearing at my left is a person propping up their cane against the chair next to them.

“Sorry, did I startle you?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, for being scared? My name is Scar!”

“My name is- Grian” I say, the words not wanting to come out of my mouth. What do I tell people? The truth, or a lie? Is it even a lie anymore?

“Is that a question? I don’t know what your name is, sorry about that buddy.”

“NO! No. That’s- I’m sure. My name is Grian. That’s what my name is! Why would it be anything else?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen you in this class before. OH YOU’RE NEW! Welcome, welcome. Oh you’re going to love this class! Professor Andersson is the best!” Scar’s eyes flash to the professor standing at the front of the classroom. He’s dressed up in a blue crew neck shirt and some black pants, exactly what you would expect an engineering teacher to prepare. He adjusts his classes before introducing the class. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps drifting to the man sitting next to me. He said he was a junior. He’s older than me, but acts so much younger. He has a goofy smile on his face always, and has such a way of speaking unlike anyone else I’ve ever heard. His hair is long and outgrown looking like a nest a bird would make, yet magnificent in a way you don’t normally see in a man. His green eyes gleamed like grass covered in mud but shone with sparkles of emeralds in the fluorescent light of the classroom. He had tan skin with a scar across his cheek— fitting with his name. When you stared at him enough, he was almost pretty. His face danced through my brain the rest of the class. If you want to hear more about what I have planned for this AU, feel free to ask me! I hope you guys like this, as I've never written fanfiction before.

[vesuvian-meme]

I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the vampire elf. I am so normal about the v

[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

[fail-eacan]

I decided to hop on the Hatsune Miku train, so without further ado I present to you:

Ithacan Miku!

[attapullman]

There's porn without plot and then there's the in-depth origin story of Bob Floyd discovering and developing his love of eating pussy.

[circusfable]

Siffrin post loop recovery fic next >:) I’m thinking this one’ll be a multi chap fic bc I have soooooo many ideas

[starrynightzcollective]

guys drop your FAVORITE fandom (or just one you like) in the comments below and I will look into it, trying to fuck with some new content and I dunno where to start

[geomimetry]

Could you draw Mr Johnson as a test subject? Like in that one fic? That man is in such a situation

Happy 12 years portal 2 and even longer portal 1! (belatedly)

[boundinparchment]

🤔🐌 🦖 for the ask game!

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

Depends on how 3.0 goes. I haven't felt much of anything for a lot of fictional characters (Sunday, I adore him, but I knew part of it would be fleeting because he was new for my brain).

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

Finishing Remnants. This thing was literally almost entirely written before I revamped it and I have everything just...needing to be assembled. It's small in comparison to tackling Rumors and Vertigo, where my plot is far lengthier and involved.

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

Some days, I consider writing for City of Love: Paris again. I even started a reader insert for it (based on the main character, who's a self-insert type anyway). The game left so much up in the air and it's an example of 'cool idea but terrible execution but it's Ub*soft, what should I have expected?' Same goes for Loki, for HP, for Hellsing. The thoughts are there but the motivation isn't. I don't think I ever could, really. In the same way that I wrote so much for Zhongli but don't anymore. It's not that I don't love the thing but that my love has taken a different shape, if that makes sense. Eventually, I'll be in that position with my current obsessions, too.

[matamisin]

*holds up Clay in my hands* this troll can and should hold so much trauma

[ajdrawshq]

oct2path update . just hit the double whammy that was one of casttis chapters + one of thronés chapters. don't remember the numbers but it's probably an if u know u know type situation bc Ow that Hurt. anyway I'm currently on the temenos chapter that I'm pretty sure I've heard ppl talk about in a. similar vibe sort of way. and. not for the first time this game. i feel dread

[gregmarriage]

i feel like i’ve made tumblr user gregmarriage, my whole personality, but i honestly don’t know who the hell i am otherwise

[eggmeralda]

I need a massive sudden hyperfixation shock to happen again

[an-extrodinary-blog-for-el-topo]

Apart from Le Chevre obviously, who's your favourite? Faculty included 👀

(when was this sent like 2 days ago lol someone help me already)

(btw.)

(I forgot what to say lol btw my air conditioning is not working so I'm a bit nuts rn lol ha 😋)

Who told you I play favorites..I don't have favourites.. I like all the people I've met..

I mean..if I was forced I would go with Black Sheep but then again I can't because Black Sheep isn't Black Sheep anymore and Black Sheep is Carmen SanDiego now..

Then I could say Crackle, but Crackle's favourite is Black Sheep and Ehm..I don't like playing favourites.. didn't I already say that..

I don't play favorites with the faculty either..Though if I would have to pick it be Dr. Bellum.. most of the instructors don't really care about our needs and whatnot, just because we're adults doesn't mean we aren't teens..and from what I heard, teens have necessities.

Dr. Bellum did the same but at least she could relate to our pain in a way.. though I wonder how she knows what we go through everyday on the island and why..and she's very amusing outside of working hours for her..I could consider her telling Ms. Countess Cleo how some students should start dating amusing..?

Well ehm..that is it..I guess so.

👋

-p.s: Le Chèvre isn't my favourite either even with his role in my life, but that's mainly because I know him way more personally than others..so no, he's not either. :3

[redeemed-wren]

Going to be thinking about "I put you on a train" "I got off" for the next 2-5 working days ughguhg

[kdelarenta]

i need help y'all (the 3 people that still see my blog 😭)