#that was a tough one to write

[sparkles-oflight]

39. Jan/Nace (predictable choice) but I’m not over the Damon Baker shoot yet

Hiii!

For context: me and paperphilia (Sam) talked about what exactly we thought it was "a kiss because time's running out" and we made two things clear: dramatic and angsty (sorry not sorry)

Sam also recommended I use the lyrics of Muse's "Time is running out" for this fic.

And now, for the fic context: because Sam mentioned movie things, I took inspiration from The Hunger Games franchise and also from Hozier's "Take Me to Church" MV.

If you never watched The Hunger Games, don't worry, there are no spoilers here. But the specific scene(s) I'm using as a basis is the goodbye of the selected tributes and their families before the game (because their farewell is timed ^^')

So, disclaimers: there's violence here and angst. Please consider this an AU of sorts (even if we don't know exactly what's going on).

Nace was blindfolded, handcuffed and taken to somewhere he didn't know...He was knocked unconscious, and he didn't know for how long, but he heard the people guiding him mumbling something about taking him to see someone.

As he heard a door open, Nace was attacked by the light that came out of a window in a bright room. The blindfold and handcuffs had been removed.

- You have 3 minutes. - one of his "guards" said as he left.

After recovering from the temporary blindness, Nace looked around and found Jan.

He ran to his lover's arms. Jan hugged him strongly, both of them shaking. Jan looked about to burst into tears and his mouth was trembling. He looked like he was about to sob the loudest he had ever. Or had he already? Nace couldn't tell.

Nace broke their embrace and rested his forehead on Jan's, waiting for the younger one to calm down. Their palms were flat against each other.

- I think I'm drowning... asphyxiated. - Jan fought to get those words out.

In his mind, he just couldn't let go of Nace, yet he wanted to break this spell that he created. If only Nace wasn't in love with him, it would be so much easier. If only he weren't in love with Jan, they'd both be happy.

- You will be the death of me. - Nace joked to try to calm Jan down, but that didn't work.

- I need to bury it.

Nace understood with he meant – Jan wanted to bury their love.

- I won't let you bury it! - Nace grabbed Jan, who refused to look at him in his eyes, by his shoulders - I won't let you smother it or murder it!

- I just want your freedom, Nace! I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted! - Jan yelled at him, desperate to break Nace's heart -  You are sucking the life out of me.

Jan felt tears falling down and a snort coming from his nose all because...

He looked at Nace's big brown eyes which now looked like a red glass about to break.

- I don’t want freedom restricted and bounded.

Nace laid his head on Jan’s again and their noses met.

- Our time is running out. - Nace was trying to stay strong, as best as he could, but his hands met Jan's once more...he needed that friction to be able to hold on.

He squeezed his hand as hard as he could.

- You will squeeze the life out of me. - Jan said.

Nace pushed his lips against Jan's. Probably their sloppiest kiss ever, but they didn't know whether that was their last one or not. They just wanted to be next to each other.  They wouldn't mind dying from this kiss - "it would have been better than dying separated", that's what they believed in.

- Time's up. - the same voice from before came back to the room.

Nace and Jan didn't let go of each other. Nace felt his heart accelerate as he was pulled away from Jan.

Even after both being cuffed, they still wouldn't stop, which led to Jan getting hit in the head, and knocked unconscious.

- Jan! - Nace screamed as the last thing he saw before being blindfolded and knocked down himself was Jan being dragged away from the room.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Demons

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Asriel ventures back to Hometown while on the trail of trying to find out what happened to Kris, and stumbles across an unusual man who's all too excited to share his demon-warding knowledge! But it's unclear so far whether this knowledge will actually be of help to him...

Yaaay all done with this series back with the Dreemurrs! This one was definitely the longest, but also had some important info! What I'll tackle next is a mystery to me right now...

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: Exterior shot of a back alley in Hometown, with old barrels and boxes stacked behind medieval buildings. Asriel walks down the alley, wearing a striped shirt, glasses and scruffy blond hair, and carrying a large canvas bag over his shoulders. The annoying dog trots happily beside him.

Panel 2: The annoying dog drops his nose to the ground, sniffing at some interesting smell.

Panel 3: The dog bounds off ahead of Asriel to a haphazard collection of trinkets, boxes, jars and displayed charms, all partially covered with colorful cloths. A man is kneeling under one of the tent setups. Asriel walks to catch up with the dog, asking, "What's got your interest this time, dog?"

Panel 4: The man pops up from his odd collection and turns to Asriel with arms spread and a big smile. He has short curly hair, and is dressed in a medieval robe with a cape slung over his shoulders, and bone designs in his sleeve cuffs. He answers, "Just the finest assortment of handmade charms and magical meals made by yours truly, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" The dog happily circles Papyrus, tail wagging.

Panel 5: Asriel is a bit taken aback by the introduction, but waves in greeting anyway, and responds with "…Oh! Howdy!" The dog sits in front of Papyrus, panting and wagging his tail.

Page 2 Panel 1: Papyrus leans down with a big grin to pet the dog and ruffle its face. "What a bright and clever fellow! Such a sweet face!"

Panel 2: "You're a good, good boy, aren't you?" Papyrus continues. However, the dog glances over to the side, as something has got his attention:

Panel 3: It's one of the charms Papyrus has on display: a large femur bone decorated with paint, beads and feathers.

Panel 4: The dog leaps up and snatches the charm in its mouth. Papyrus looks agape at this thievery, eyes cartoonishly wide. "Wh-HEY! That's my SPECIAL demon-warding charm!"

Panel 5: The dog goes running off further into the alley, the bone still in its mouth. Papyrus shakes his fist at it and yells after it: "You thieving scoundrel! I take back all the nice things I said about you!"

Panel 6: Papyrus quickly turns back to Asriel with a more apologetic look; even now he can't be too mean. He says, "I apologize, I didn't mean to yell at your dog. I'm sure he's normally better behaved!" Asriel waves off the apology with tired bemusement. "No, it's fine. He's not really my dog." Under his breath, he adds, "He just keeps following me around for some reason…"

Panel 7: Papyrus stands back up and gestures to his odd collection. "In any case, you at least are welcome to my little shop-in-the-works!"

Page 3 Panel 1: Papyrus leans in close to Asriel, observing him, and getting a bit into his personal space. "You look a little familiar, though! Are you perhaps related to Mr. Dreemurr?" Asriel nervously adjusts his glasses, and replies, "Heh, yes. I'm Asriel, his son."

Panel 2: Asriel holds up a hand and gives a little sideeye to the alley around them. "But, uh…I actually don't want my parents to know that I'm back in town, so I'd appreciate you keeping quiet about me being here."

Panel 3: Papyrus mirrors that sideeye, hands on his hips, as if recalling some recent incident. "Ahh…I know well the trials of avoiding family. Especially when they decide to try out some terrible new jokes."

Panel 4: Papyrus makes a lip-zipping motion with his hand and mouth. "Not to worry, my lips are sealed!" Asriel smiles back, and says, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

Panel 5: A wider shot of the two still standing within Papyrus's collection of tents and trinkets. Papyrus asks, "So, if it's not to see your folks, what brings you back around Hometown?" Asriel glances around them, and replies, "I'm looking for something. Or well…kinda hoping I don't find something here."

Page 4 Panel 1: Papyrus points up one finger, looking as if he's already solved this problem. "If you don't want to find it, then looking for it seems rather counterintuitive!"

Panel 2: Asriel looks a little taken aback by that logic. "Yes, well… Okay you have a point, but…"

Panel 3: Asriel keeps glancing behind him, as if expecting to see someone there. "This is kind of the next step in a trail of research I've been doing."

Panel 4: Papyrus puts a hand to a chest and puffs himself up, imitating his heroic poses from Undertale. "Well, if your research involves handmade charms and tasty foods both designed to ward off demons, evil spirits and the like… Then I'll be your most cited source!"

Panel 5: Asriel crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, intrigued by this. "Really."

Panel 6: "You know a lot about demons, huh?" Asriel asks as he sits himself on one of the rugs within the tent setup. Papyrus keeps up his self-congratulatory pose. "I, the Great Papyrus, am a bonafide expert in such subjects! Sad that so few around here seem to recognize my talents."

Page 5 Panel 1: Asriel holds his hands up, willing to follow this strange thread wherever it might lead. "Well, I've got a question that all my research hasn't been able to answer for me, so perhaps you can…"

Panel 2: A pause as Asriel holds on to his thoughts, hands closed in front of his face. Papyrus sits down on the rug across from him.

Panel 3: Asriel lowers his hands, his face deeply serious. "How do you kill a demon?"

Panel 4: Papyrus looks back at him with an equally serious expression, then…

Panel 5: The seriousness is gone as he gives a casual shrug, and gives an answer. "Oh, that's simple. You don't!"

Panel 6: Asriel looks a little bit baffled, and disappointed. "…You don't?"

Panel 7: "No, silly. They're immortal, like angels!" Papyrus keeps up the casual shrug, as if this information is obvious.

Panel 8: However, Papyrus then seems to become aware of why this is being asked. He looks around the area frantically, his head whipping back and forth. "Why?! Are there demons around here that my detection flatbreads missed?!" Asriel offers an amused smile back. "Heehee… no, I don't think so."

Page 6 Panel 1: The seriousness returns to Asriel's face as he scratches at his nose, lost in worried thought. "I just…have this real bad hunch. I'm trying to prepare myself for all potential outcomes."

Panel 2: Papyrus ignores the seriousness of the situation, and just seems impressed. "Preparation! The hallmark of the truly intelligent!"

Panel 3: Asriel is still set on getting some information, and continues his questions. "Thanks. So, if you can't kill them, what do you do about them?" Papyrus holds up a finger again, happy to keep explaining: "Well, you got two options! First, you can banish them back to their own plane!"

Panel 4: Papyrus continues, "However, that's really only the ideal option if you're the one that summoned them in the first place. Otherwise it's a whole ordeal." In the background, Papyrus's point is illustrated with a little graphic of a cult member holding up a hand in rejection of a demon within a summoning circle. The demon looks confused and perturbed by the rejection.

Panel 5: Asriel says, "I see. What's the other option?" Papyrus continues his explanation across the two panels: "You bind the demon to something! Quickest and easiest thing to do is bind them to an object! Buuut, problem with that is, if your object gets broken or destroyed, now your demon's free and even angrier than before."

Panel 6: To illustrate his point, another background graphic shows a shocked human with a broken jar in front of them. A demon rises out of the remains of the broken jar, looking angry and ready to strike.

Page 7 Panel 1: Papyrus again continues his explanation across two panels. "Hardest and most time-consuming thing to do is to bind them to a place! Good option if you have the prep time, but then you can't really use that place anymore. Better pick a restaurant you hate and hope no one there minds you standing outside it chanting for three days straight."

Panel 2: To illustrate his point further, a scene (perhaps a flashback) shows Papyrus with his arms raised outside of a restaurant, supposedly chanting angrily at it, while another person stares back at him from the doorway, hands on their hips in annoyance.

Panel 3: Asriel watches as Papyrus finishes up the rest of his explanation: "Aaaand, last thing you can do is…bind the demon to a person! Which…"

Panel 4: Papyrus stops suddenly. For the first time, he looks actually disturbed and hesitant.

Panel 5: Asriel watches quizzically, waiting for him to continue.

Panel 6: When he doesn't continue, Asriel tries to prompt him on, tilting his head towards him. "…And?"

Panel 7: Papyrus quickly waves his hands in front of him, smiling nervously, clearly trying to dismiss the whole idea. "But you know, we don't need to go into the details of that!"

Panel 8: Asriel says nothing, but remains in nervous thought, one hand covering his mouth. It's clear that this is sticking in his mind the most.

Page 8 Panel 1: Asriel remains sitting with a hand to his chin in thought, but Papyrus has moved on to better advice. "But as I always say, an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure! You're much better off trying one of my charms or meals to-go!"

Panel 2: Asriel lets himself smile more at this suggestion. "Y'know? I'm sold. And also a bit hungry."

Panel 3: Asriel gets up, and drops a handful of coins into Papyrus's open hand, which Papyrus looks at in surprise. Asriel says, "Give me your best demon-warding meal."

Panel 4: Papyrus stares down at the coins in his hand, his eyes cartoonishly big and shiny, full of excitement. "WOWIE!! My FIRST ever sale!" he says with a big smile.

Panel 5: Papyrus leaps up and begins to rummage through some of the boxes and barrels around his collection. "This calls for my finest delicacy!" Asriel watches him from a few steps back, and mutters under his breath, "…First ever?…"

Page 9 Panel 1: Papyrus straightens back up, gesturing to a small sack that he is holding in one hand. He looks pleased with himself. "Spiced candied yam bites, from my home country!"

Panel 2: "Each one will purge you of evil spirits for a whole ten hours!" he continues. He hands the small sack off to Asriel, who takes it from him and says, "Sounds like a good deal." In the background, the annoying dog pops back up from behind some other boxes, holding something in its mouth.

Panel 3: Asriel hefts the bag over his shoulder again, and holds up the sack of treats in acknowledgement of the exchange. "Well, I know where to come if I need more info and good charms."

Panel 4: Papyrus stands proud, both hands on his hips, happy at being able to spout off his knowledge to a stranger. "Yes, yes! Tell all your friends about the fantastic advice and the culinary masterworks of the Great Papyrus!" he says excitedly.

Panel 5: Asriel heads off back into the alleyways, and waves goodbye to Papyrus. The annoying dog follows close behind his steps. Papyrus enthusiastically waves to the two as they leave, and says, "Safe travels to you and your annoying dog!"

Page 10 Panel 1: Papyrus turns back to his collection of trinkets and boxes with a determined look, hands on his hips. "And now to see where that criminal canine buried my special charm…" he says to himself.

Panel 2: While continuing on through the alleyways, Asriel opens the small sack and pulls out one of the candied yam bites.

Panel 3: Asriel glances back down at the dog, and notices that he's carrying something that's making a tinking noise. It's partially hidden from view. "Oh boy, what did you steal now?" he asks with a wry smile.

Panel 4: Asriel takes the yam bite and pops it into his mouth with a crunch…

Panel 5: …Only to then make a face, his eyes wide and his mouth scrunched up, as if tasting something indescribable.

Panel 6: "What IS this flavor?" Asriel asks to himself, although all but his back foot are off-panel. The focus is on the annoying dog, who is shown to be carrying a strange, heart-shaped metal lantern on a chain.

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[qweenofurheart]

a couple of people told me the comic i made reminded them of A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacmuffin, so i had to draw a scene from it

[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[merakiui]

there are no words to express how crazy i am going right now (part two).

[monocaelia]

redolence.

he can't help but be drawn to you again and again; you're intoxicating and he fears he has grown addicted. feat. wriothesley & gn!reader w.c : 1.4 k warnings : physically intimate scenario but nothing happens , a result of me being touch starved lol note : i'm back for a little (: this idea has been haunting me and i wanted a simple warm up.

the warmth of your quaint apartment is welcoming as wriothesley haggardly enters through your doorway, a sharp contrast from the cool night breeze that clings to the streets of the court of fontaine. the smell of dinner entices the duke further into your home, but his exhausted body yearns for something other than the food waiting for him on the dining room table.

his feet shuffle across the hardwood floors, not even bothering to switch any lanterns on as your home has been memorized from the countless number of times he has visited you.

you, his beloved.

just as your name echoes in his head, your head pops out from the hallway leading into your bedroom and your bright smile lights up the darkness in your abode, putting the moon and her gracious light to shame.

the humble apartment comes to life as the lanterns illuminate the living space and the patter of your feet against the floor is all wriothesley can hear before-

"wrio!" you call his name and the duke can already feel his muscles relax and the weight from keeping busy at meropide lift from his shoulders. as if by instinct, wriothesley opens his arms wide and he doesn't need a warning from you as he feels your body leap into his arms.

and despite his world now embracing him in his arms, the duke of the fortress of meropide feels the most at ease.

your feet land on the wooden floor of your home as your lover sets you back down, grounding you back to reality and yet your heart still feels like it's feather light as if you weighed nothing more than a speck of dust as you meet ashen eyes.

he looks exhausted from a long day's work; the silver eyes that you love so much drooping and the weary lines below his eyes a bit more prominent this evening. his usually tousled hair is messier than it usually is and your fingers reach up to fix it as much as you could.

the sea of midnight tufts streaked with silver, reminiscent of the galaxies you would see littering the clear night sky after the tears of the hydro dragon cleanse the land of fontaine, is soft to the touch and you wish you could play with it forever. your fingers linger down to his jaw, caressing the scars that have made their home along his face.

and you watch as the man who has seen what the world has to offer in the worst way possible melt into your touch as if it were the only safe haven he knows.

"i take it work was rough on you?" you ask your lover, a smile growing on your face as wriothesley sighs heavily.

"don't get me started," he begins, pressing a kiss into your palm. "i'd rather not talk about it and ruin my mood for tonight."

your lover stays true to his word as his hand trails down your arm; his larger hand encases your own and keeps yours glued to his face as your warmth encompass him. however, as wriothesley relishes in your simple touch, something about you intrigues him. it stimulates his senses, reeling the duke in closer to your skin. he can feel your body heat increasing as he buries his face into your palm before sliding to your wrist as the scent grows stronger.

it's sweet, a smoky, herbal aroma with a hint of fruit... was it sunsettias? or bulle fruit?

regardless of what it was, it's enticing to the duke and he found himself inching his face further and further into the warmth of your body. you find it ticklish the way wriothesley's nose skims up your arm from your wrist, inhaling every single inch of your skin to get more of the aroma into his system.

his touch is dizzying to you; the kiss to your palm already sending your chest ablaze and it only gets worse the more he kisses up your arm. each press of his lips against your skin sends waves of heat over your body but you find it hard to pull away from the intimate atmosphere.

"new perfume?" your boyfriend grumbles against your shoulder as he takes in more of the scent. what was it; the fruity smell is on the tip of his tongue and yet fatigue clouds his brain.

"n-no," you stammer out in a voice that wavers in strength. your free hand, the one not held in your lover's as his lips caress your skin again and again, grips onto the fabric of his shirt. his heat melds into yours as your bodies get closer in the small room of your apartment. "it's a new body oil i'm trying out from sumeru... does it smell weird?"

truly, wriothesley's actions are quite the opposite of that. if anything, this herbal scent clinging onto your body lures the supposed cold duke that oversees the fortress of meropide into your frame and turns him into complete putty underneath the mere graze of your finger.

if only the prisoners of meropide could see the duke now.

wriothesley feels your body shiver as he nears your neck with his touch. you're flustered, skin warming up and breath hitching, and as a result he pulls away from your body... only to be greeted by such a delightful sight; eyes wide open like a deer caught in the spotlight and your kissable lips parted in such a way that almost reels him in completely.

oh, what you do to him.

"far from weird, sweetheart," wriothesley murmurs softly, his voice a mere whisper, before he delves down again as temptation rules over his mind and his body yearns for your touch. his lips press into your own, the taste of his afternoon tea enveloping your senses; it's floral yet citrus hints make your head spin as his kisses caress your lips again and again.

wriothesley's arms have moved to hold your waist and pull you closer to him; the need to feel every inch of you on his own body is overwhelming the duke and he knows he won't be able to hold himself back for too long.

you're too intoxicating and the aroma that wafts from your body is only pulling him further and further in.

your lover pulls away from the kiss, but you've only a moment of respite before his lips press into your skin again. they trail from your jaw down to the crook of your neck. your body shivers as his warm breath fans across the expanse of your neck and yet you're far from cold.

it's ticklish the way wriothesley buries himself into your neck and you can't even pull away to compose yourself as his arms trap you within his arms; a prisoner in the fortress of his embrace.

"wrio, maybe we should call it a night?" your voice is barely a breath as you try to snap your lover out of his trance, not that you would mind where this would be headed to but... the moon was high in the sky and you know wriothesley would be even more exhausted the next morning should the both of you continue.

his nuzzles against your skin put to a halt due to your words and like an obedient lover, wriothesley pulls away with a tired smile. he leans down again but only to press light kisses against the apples of your cheek and forehead.

"sorry, darling," wriothesley whispers in the close space between you. his thumb has come up to gently rub across your cheek and his heart skips a beat seeing how frazzled you had become because of him. he kisses you again, but this time it's brief and light. "you're just too much for me sometimes."

"all i did was welcome you home." your deadpan manner makes your lover chuckle softly.

and yet as the two of you bicker late into the night, all the duke could think about was the solace that you bring when you're near him. the warmth in your smile, the comfort in your embrace, and the relief that you bring to him with just your scent alone is enough to bring his mind at ease after the taxing work hours at the fortress of meropide.

should the days toughen the duke even more than he already is, he knows you'll be there to soften and protect his heart with a simple touch.

his solace.

[johnslittlespoon]

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me)

Ch. 8/? – 'I Don't Blink Cause I Don't Wanna Miss It'

[WC: 105K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, College AU, The Bikeriders AU, Age Gap, Emotional Slowburn, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Set in 2005]

College student John Egan ends up in an old pub on the other side of his small town, where he has a chance encounter with biker and mechanic Gale Cleven. Unconventional circumstances be damned, John is a lovesick fool.

[AO3 LINK]

[aroaceleovaldez]

they girlbossed Sally Jackson

[mylucayathoughts]

Alex on his way back from Paris is one of the most underrated Taylor scenes in Red White and Royal Blue and I think he did such a splendid job there. It's underrated in the sense that, it's not as talked about as his coming out to Henry scene or lake scene or Kensington palace confrontation scene, mostly possibly because it's so short (about 9 seconds). But it's one of my favorites and it owns my heart 🥺♥️. I even talked about it a bit in my little moments series part 1, but not nearly enough.

To me, this scene was incredibly beautifully acted. Taylor poured his heart and soul into it. I believe he discussed it with Matthew extensively and put a lot of thoughts on his approach to it. He knew, the focus would be on his face and he had to portray the many emotions of Alex perfectly and boy did he deliver!

Alex was seen to be so lost in thoughts on the plane, taking in all the new things that had happened, contemplating Henry and their situationship, navigating all the new feelings that were bubbling up within his chest.

He was thinking about Henry, who had become such a good friend to Alex in such a short amount of time, who listens to him, supports him, reassures him while having his own demons to deal with, his closetedness, unsympathetic grandparent. I'm sure Alex felt heard, connected, loved and at the same time feeling a new sense of responsibility towards Henry, to care for him, to protect him. He was falling so fast in love with Henry. This must have been overwhelming to him in the best possible way. And you can see it in the way he goes from pensive to taking in a deep breath. I love how it shows that he is relaxing and coming to terms with all these new feelings.

And he tears up a bit at the weight of them, the weight of all the good things, the prospect of something much bigger and more beautiful than a hook up. And he smiles, ever so softly, at how happy and at peace it made him feel.

I cropped the photo so that his teary eyes can be seen a little better. This 9 second scene is so important and sets the tone for the rest of the movie. Alex was clearly very serious after this about their relationship. His transition from showing just pure Physical want and devouring looks (at the polo match), and then just having a good time with Henry, discovering little things about each other (garden scene and Paris Cafe scene) to Paris hotel scene where they make love for the first time and him pouring his heart out to Henry, and seeing Henry say all the right things, respond in the most loving way, has been done so seamlessly and all of it culminate in this plane scene. And it's so apparent that Alex is grasping and accepting all of that. It's just amazing to see Taylor portray this with just facial expressions (and not through a convo with a friend like it's sometimes done in movies). Such a well scripted and well acted scene, it was so refreshing to watch 🥰

[1000sunnygo]

IMO a lesser mentioned reason behind Luffy's overwhelming success as a protagonist is Oda's extreme overprotectiveness. Like he'd rather jump off a cliff than let Luffy be controversial.

Marineford is an easy example. An arc heavily featuring Luffy's low point, but Oda didn't make him responsible for Ace's death. In 1000+ chapters of screentime, I can't think of an instance where Luffy did something irredeemable in fandom eyes. Only controversial scene that comes to mind is picking a fight against Zoro in Whiskey peak? Maybe Oda had the luxury to let his guard down back then bc online discussions weren't a thing PFFT

It's not like Luffy doesn't make mistakes, but Oda makes sure Luffy is immediately called out by someone in the story so he stays grounded and can apologize if he has to.

And that's not all, Oda is vocally supportive of Luffy in the polls, he can't not include Luffy in magazine covers even when the editors press him to, he made the timskip 2years bc he wanted Luffy to stay a child during story's runtime, he doesn't let a single character outshine Luffy in an arc, he cushioned Luffy's past with TWO brothers and kept one alive after taking away one of them.. he's spoiling Luffy rotten and I love to see it bc that's the right kind of spoiling, that's what keeps Luffy the happy boy he needs to be, shonen authors should take some notes methinks

[lawomi]

A Little Vengeance - Trans!Law x GN!Reader

Linktree for Fic REQUESTS Status, Ao3, Wattpad, ext

Fic Masterlist

Requested by @makemake22 💞 ty

After a few rounds of sex with your boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, you were quite sore… and you're convinced you deserved a little vengeance.

Minors DNI

CWs: Smut, Spanking / Paddling, Sex toys

Your eyes were adjusted to the darkness of Law’s quarters, no light filtering in save for a small candle that flickered on his dresser. You were both sprawled out naked on the bed, your panting mingling with the sound of the Tang’s rumbling engine.

Everything hurts, you muse, sighing with satisfaction. To your left, you felt Law shift his weight, pushing himself up on his side. He reaches out and takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb affectionately between your fingers.

“Hey, babe, my ass hurts,” you remark to him without looking at him, making him laugh. You lift his hand to your face and play with it, examining the now pink skin on his palms.

“Yeah? I made sure it would,” he grinned his usual sadistic grin, hoping you’d look. You did, then roll your eyes. “It was what you wanted,” he points out, smile faltering ever so slightly. “Can’t ask me to play sadist and then expect me to half ass it,” he joked.

“Y’know…” you turn towards him, then push yourself up onto your butt and wince, leaning back against the headboard. “I think… I want some revenge,” you said, looking into his curious, concerned gold ring eyes.

At first, it took him a moment. He stared, eyes widening slightly, then a blush dusted his cheeks. “Oh,” he pouted and averted his eyes.

“What?” You pat his shoulder, “C’mere.”

Reluctantly, he got up on his knees and shuffled over. He half hugged you, pressing his forehead against yours with a big grimace plastered on his face. You laugh, falling into a fit of giggles.

“What the hell!” You cup his face, giving him a kiss. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Lie across my lap, stupid.”

“I don’t want to,” his voice cracked slightly.

“That’s not one of our safewords,” it was your turn to grin wickedly, looking a bit like the Cheshire cat. He flinches, lips curling into a shy smirk, but he avoids your gaze.

“…F-fine,” he said finally. Awkwardly, he straddles your hips. His long torso was too tempting, as usual, so you run your hands down either side, causing him to shiver from the sudden contact. Both hands squeeze his hips, appreciating the soft give, then one hand travels down quickly and cups his sex, making his cheeks and ears burn pinker, he was already excessively wet.

“You freak,” you tease, “Wow. All that acting and you’re already excited,” you watch him shutter as your fingers run along his slit, pinching and pulling his labia.

He rolled his eyes, pouting profusely. “Whatever…” Your unoccupied hand slips down to caress his thigh, then up to his ass, pulled back and gave him a test slap. It wasn’t strong, but it made him jump. “Tsk, wait a sec,” he snaps.

“You’re taking too long, you big baby!” You scolded. “You like dishing out the pain but won’t take it back?”

He scoffed, “I can take pain plenty well, I’m a fucking pirate. The Surgeon of Death, actually. Have you seen my bounty—”

“That’s it,” you grab his arm and pull him down towards the bed. He obliged, considering he was too strong to be manhandled by you. “Hah,” you smile as he adjusts himself to lie across your lap, “You like playing brat, huh Dr. Death?”

He rested his cheek in his left hand, huffing shakily. He runs his right hand through his messy hair, “I-I just… don’t like being bossed around. I chose to lie here,” he turns his head to glance back at you, you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. You immediately erase it when you slap his left ass cheek with a loud Clap! making him lurch forward. “Tsk,” he hissed, “That one felt personal.”

“You better shut up,” you stifle a laugh, “I doubt my hands hurt you!” You pull back and slap his ass cheek again in the same spot, making him grumble and shift. Your left hand slides along the small of his back, reaching his Jolly Roger tattoo, and push down slightly to indicate he stay still. Yet another slight protest leaves his throat, but he does what you ask.

Again he hisses when your hand comes down on the same spot, then rubs the reddening skin and moves on to squeeze his other cheek. Your hand then runs down to pat his thigh, slapping the sensitive skin there, too. “Ah,” his jaw slacked just a moment, then he winced, gritting his teeth, when you hit him where you started.

“That’s it,” you purr, “The more I hit you in the one spot, the easier. Maybe I should bring a paddle out, if my hands aren’t heavy enough,” you half say to yourself. “Well, technically I’ll make you summon one…” Again, a Clap! This time he cursed under his breath. He shifts to cover his face in both hands, mumbling something you can’t make out. You could feel his slick begin to wet your thigh, his hard clit grinding ever so slightly against you with each hit.

Exchanging hands, you continue smacking the hot skin, then kneed it, a lovely groan rumbled in his chest. Your right hand's fingers ghost along his inner thigh, making his muscles tense. You run three fingers along his slit, teasing his dick between two. He shutters, sighing dreamily and spreading his legs ever so slightly. You slap him in response, forcing a whine, then a loud moan when your fingers penetrate him. With three fingers inserted deep, the distinct wetness resounding, you begin to rub his g-spot. “Ahh,” he keened, your name falling from his lips.

“Law, get me the paddle, please,” you command casually, leaning with wet fingers to grab a tissue from the night stand. The second your fingers left him he complained, craning his neck to check what you were doing. You wiped them off.

Hesitating a moment—he doesn’t like to seem too eager—he finally lifted his left hand. “Room,” the blue light extends, then in an instant the tissue you were holding was replaced with a paddle sporting a large heart, with smaller ones along the edges.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, bringing down the paddle harshly on his sore left cheek. Law sprung forward, pulling in a strained, surprised gasp. Fuck, you heard him whisper. You chortle, satisfied at how fast the Room ability vanished, too, like flicking a light switch.

You massage the cheek again, his hissing music to your ears, observing as lighter heart shaped marks began to appear. “Aw, that’s not as puffy as it could be,” you remark. Before he could respond, you bring the paddle down with a Slap! against his untouched cheek. Strained cries left his throat as he shifted slightly to rut against your thigh. You didn’t complain, touching the much brighter heart marks, emphasized by the flushing patch of skin. It was a much darker red than your hand could cause. In fact, you could see some blood vessels burst, leaving a nice purple hue. So, you do it again, tears begin stinging Law’s eyes.

“Good boy,” you praise, using the paddle against his back thigh just to surprise him. He kicks his legs back and forth in an automatic pain easing response. He finally covers his face from embarrassment by shoving it against the mattress. You reach over and tangle your fingers in his hair, then finally begin spanking him over and over.

Law keened and whined into the mattress, his hands squeezing the sheets. Again and again you hit him, occasionally switching cheeks, then hitting his thighs to let his ass rest a little. You pet the burning skin gently, affectionately, the heat radiating against your palms pleasant to the touch. Once you decided he was marked enough from ass to calf, you finally stop. You reach over and grab some cooling lotion, then began spreading it roughly. He whines weakly, both of his own hands entangled in his hair. You let him be, although you did want to see his pretty face, messy face.

Reaching one last time into the drawer next to you, you pull out a medium sized dildo he kept there. Without speaking a word, you shove it as deep as you could into his fluttering, weeping cunt. He muffled a scream in delight. The sound goes on longer as you begin to pump the dildo. It didn’t take too long for the tight coil in his core to come undone, his fists turning white, his body shaking slightly. He lifts his head up off the sheets in response to the pushing sensation, his desperate moans filled your ears as he squirt cum unceremoniously over your thighs. You leave the dildo inside him, occasionally giving it a smack on the blunt silicone bottom to make him tighten and groan.

“There we go,” you hum, continuing to administer the lotion into his stringing skin. He sighed contently, having relaxed his hands and letting his head rest facing away from you. He was too prideful to show you his fucked out, tear stained face. “Was my vengeance too harsh?” You coo, grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Anything you can do I can do better,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of you.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“You’ll find out,” his tone, lace with amusement, was quickly cut off by a pained yelp as you hit him with the paddle one final time. The room soon fell into mutual laughter.

[feralghxuls]

to me. alpha is the same as dew. alpha is dew if he never had the support of his pack.

alpha NEEDED love and compassion. but it's hard to give love and compassion to someone who lashes out at the slightest provocation.

omega tried. he DID love alpha. for a long time. but the obsession and the violence and the blaming omega for alpha's outbursts was too much.

it's hard when every negative feeling burns up inside you and comes out of your mouth as anger. and you feel out of control, because once you start you can't stop, and that terrifies you, and that just adds fuel to the fire and you just get meaner. and all you want is for him to take you into his arms and tell you it's okay, but you won't let him, and he's raising defenses against you, and he's retreating and you're digging your claws in and you're scared and desperate and you can't stand the idea of being alone

and then he leaves you. and then you're alone. you have your old pack. the first ghouls you played with, years ago, but they're not exactly the emotional type. they're cold and sharp and they keep to themselves and you tell yourself that's fine with you. you tell yourself you're fine with only ever sharing the warmth of another ghoul when you're a means to an end.

and you get meaner. and colder. and all the hurt inside you turns to steel in your gut. and you can't stand to think about the possibility that maybe, just maybe. if you'd had the love, it wouldn't be this way.

[fangswbenefits]

just a few random thoughts on The Arrangement Astarion (cw: mentions of past abuse and trauma)

The way abuse can warp someone for life is often overlooked. This isn't just a journey about him dealing with intimacy (in all its forms) but also how to do it in spite of everything he went through. Putting up walls and not letting her in, but feeling the need to resort to sarcasm and to being snarky cause the vulnerability that comes with it is just too much to handle. She has already seen the ugly yet he keeps doing it, because when you've doing it for so long it becomes second nature and it's hard to unlearn this behaviour. How can people stay when they've seen the ugly? Well, some people do stay because they have seen the ugly and their love for you surpasses that. They'd ve damned if they allowed that to change their opinion of you.

However, this doesn't have be a life sentence for him. He can learn and better himself alongside her if he so chooses. There will be good days. There will be bad days. But the constant will be her by his side. And this isn't about anyone getting fixed. There are other ways to heal. Are those healthy, though? But still, no matter how uncertain things are, he can count on her love as a constant that can help him love the parts of him that he has grown to hate.

Is it easy? Does it happen overnight? Probably not. But there's always hope. There is always a way out. Even when he dissociates. Even when he's fearful of getting more intimate with her. Even when he remembers that she chose friendship over something else - it's never easy to be shown what you need to see instead of what you want to see. Astarion falls into this constant dichotomy and I think it's worth exploring 🫂

[halfbit]

some brief advice for characters with small scars from a head injury (from my specific experience) since i do see people give these types of scars to characters sometimes

mine is like this for reference:

specific info:

i didn't receive in-hospital treatment for it even though i lost consciousness i was kicked by a horse, the metal horseshoe is what did it it was a long time ago (over a decade now)

it doesn't effect me much day to day, it is always visible but it has become less prominent over time. certain expressions (anything eyebrow raising especially) make it very obvious.

it is physically raised and lacks pigment.

sensation wise, it used to itch but i haven't felt that for awhile now. if i pay attention when touching it, there's a slight difference in temperature from the rest of my skin. if i scrape it (even just lightly, like scratching with a fingernail) it feels like its bleeding even when its not.

if i accidentally hit it (i dont like doorways), it is extremely painful, it burns, my vision flashes white and i see stars, and it feels like its bleeding all over again of course. it feels like the irl equivalent of being stunned by an electric arrow. if your character has a scar like this, having them get hit on it in a fight is a good way to make them go down for a bit. the sensation also lingers for a decent amount of time afterwards, depending on how hard the hit was. the lingering feels like a heavy pulsing/throbbing, similar to a strong headache but localized on the scar. personally, it feels like even minor impacts can have a really strong effect still as long as its a pretty direct hit.

so yeah just my personal experience having a scar like this! i like seeing characters with similar scars but it often feels like it was just a cosmetic choice to show that they're tough. it's not something that is super high-impact for me, but it still has its effects, and when you aggravate them you can't really focus on anything else until it goes away.