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seventh-district · 8 months

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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?”

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.

“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

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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rbtlvr · 1 month

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'Is this like an Alice in Wonderland thing?' Leo called out, paddling towards Sensei and trying not to swallow water as he moved. 'Did you cry all these tears?' 'The mindscape does love a good metaphor.' Sensei called back, and he sounded fucking wrecked.

old dead bones that don't get theirs (death wish sidefic by @remedyturtles) was written to kill me, specifically, personally, actually. i still think about it Constantly

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #little kid with a big death wish #death wish #tries to get back into the groove of doing art. Does This #i will say i did take some artistic liberties ajfkldsjfkldj #NOT sure how well it comes across bc this shit is Hard to draw but. points. at all the leaves fallen off the tree. teehee #i missed drawing that fucking tree btw. god #i missed doing the mindscape effects!!!!!!!!#ohh hh i just had a thought . cleaned up version of this as a tarot card #probably will not actually get around to doing that but. smth smth the tower maybe. or the hanged man idk #id have to look up the Exact meanings of each of them but #anyway. yes its been like six months yes ii still think abt it. mindscape shit my fucking beloved #i think abt the mindscape shit in firefight DAILY as well its .awuauwguaguahghgh #ok god enough ramblign. what other tags #uhhhh . uh #sibling death cw #<- implied if you know the context but just to be safe #my art #i almost. forgor thatone i cannot BELIEVE lmao #anyway. posts this at almost fuckginh midnight its ok <3

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virgothozul · 9 months

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#Did i post this beloved man ?#joseph joestar #oldseph #sdc #jjba #stardust crusader

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fbisgayesttrio · 1 year

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#the x files #walter skinner my beloved #walter skinner #alex krycek #the smoking man #barbie meme #did i do this right?#has it been done already??#haydens posts #my edits

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uncreativebean · 2 months

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Sometimes I remember that Asra told us he loved us in the prologue and we immediately pass out so he has to reboot us so we don't go comatose and I Scream because can you imagine loving someone so much and being their caretaker and you sold half your heart for them and you just have to sit idly by with your feelings?? I'd go BALLISTIC!! And you could just not choose him??? Wild!!

#asras route shouldve had so much angst #it just shouldve been more than what it was #i wanna talk about that Asra #i wanna talk about how he was before and how unhinged he was when he had to bargain half his heart #and how he feels bottling everything up inside #and you could date lucio?? his mortal enemy??? and he didnt hate you!!#or julian?? his ex???#the possibilties were so endless for angst in all the routes and we got nothing #he dug through ash and bone for us #to find us!!#and did a ritual FOR US #i will never stop screaming #i cant choose anybody over him im sorry i am intertwined with this man #asra my beloved #the arcana #asra #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #my posts

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alchemicaladarna · 20 days

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Hi sorry, I'm ill about the soul vulture arc again. Because q!Bad made choices in his grief, in his rage, thinking he will never feel an ounce of happiness again because he thought his kids were dead. Q!Bad's Acceptance was never of accepting that grief and learning to live after it, but rather, it was the silent admission that his children were dead and there was nothing he could do. No rage, no monster, no demon, no power in heaven or hell could bring them back. It was Acceptance. But the cruel twist of fate was the fact that he was wrong. Pomme, Dapper, and the other eggs were alive, actually. By the time he found out, however, it was already too late. He was long gone, and every choice has a consequence, and he suffered the consequences of his choices like hell.

Q!Bad was dead long before he fell in the lavender field one hundred feet away from the house his children built. One hundred steps away from his sleeping children he fought so hard to keep safe, under all costs. He died the night they were taken away, because they were his soul, his happiness. Everything that mattered in the millenia he's existed, nothing could compare to his children. He died that night; and all those months where it seemed like he was alive, where he was "healing" was the grim reaper bargaining with himself to hold on a little longer for his children.

Q!Bad loved Dapper and Pomme, and Richas, and all the eggs- he loved them so much it hurt. He loved them so much that love became his hell- his purgatory. Q!Bad loved them until the moment he finally stepped in his grave and couldn't bargain any more.

He deteriorated for months. He was literally melting from the inside. The vultures pecked at his body and fractured his soul. The radiation melted the skin off his limbs, and the brain inside his skull. It hurt like no other death, but if it meant seeing his kids for one more day, then that hell was more than worth it. And the physical pain wasn't the worst of it- no, eventually, he forgot his children's names, their faces, he forgot his own name, and he forgot himself. Memories slipping away like lost fragments of time. Until his death, when he was barely himself anymore.

People noticed, but never really did anything to stop it did they? I mean, who are we kidding, even if anyone spoke up, nothing they could have done would have prevented the inevitable. Dapper knew the fate his father subjected himself to. She knew what scars from soul vultures looked like, and she tried to find a cure. He tried, when he still had his lab, but there was never enough time. No science or magic could ever remedy what was already destined to happen.

And Pomme, sweet Pomme, stayed with her father until the end. She gave him health potions- "medicine"- to help his ailments. And she had so much hope she lived in denial- she thought he was getting better. But the truth is that the memory lapses and the illness never ceased because no medicine could ever resurrect a fractured soul clinging on to his deceased body.

Then Q!Bad finally relinquished himself to the sweet mercy of death. And when he arrived, he found the promise of paradise- the promise of Home, where he would never have had to suffer a painful hell again. But he chose to come back to live and to suffer once more because this time, his children were waiting on the other side. For the first time, the scales were balanced, and his happiness was halved because he had a home that was worth living in, and a life that was worth living. For the first time in the millennia q!bad had been alone, he had love. And that was enough.

The story has always been about love and loss, and the beauty of love and life, despite that loss. That's why the soul vultures arc is my favorite, and also why I nearly cried halfway through writing this. Because love thrives in spite of the loss, and the grief, and the personal hell. When death comes, and it always does, and time has eroded every portrait, or photograph, or memory- all that is left is love. And that love is hope, as well as grief. It is joy and sadness. It is heaven and hell. It is simply love.

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #badboyhalo #qsmp dapper #qsmp pomme #qsmp analysis #character analysis #i had a shit day and i actually did start crying after writing this man ansndnfnfnend #anyways...soul vulture arc my beloved #it was death and love and hope and horror all tied up in a beatifully devastating tragedy #tw death #tw gore #<-slightly mentioned #sorry its been 2 fucking months and im still not over it #long post #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp eggs

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cthulhusstepmom · 6 months

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The Horsegirl-ification of Gideon Coal

“Kremy, are you absolutely certain this is a good idea? I think it would be fairly obvious to anyone with a brain that these are simply mundane horses.”

Leaning against the only mostly unstable temporary fence that the hands had constructed for this stretch, Kremy offers Frost a sharp toothed grin where he paces off to his right.

“That’s the thing you gotta understand Frost: it doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. The kids will believe it and the parents will pay for it.”

“Yeah and some people are just stupid plain man!” Gideon adds, leaning back on the inside of the fence.

“That’s exactly right! Even the halfway intelligent folks will pay just to see how fake they look.”

Frost grumbles but seems to acquiesce, eyes turned away as the pattering sounds of bear feet and bare feet approach the paddock.

“Gricko! Did you bring what I asked for?”

“I did indeed, but first and most importantly-” the goblin pauses for dramatic effect. “Look at how precious Hootsie is with her little unicorn horn! Ooh aren’t you the most precious unicowlbear!” And she is precious, toddling behind her father with a bulging satchel and a headband with a unicorn horn attached to it. Allowing Gricko his moment, Kremy steps forward and retrieves the satchel from Hootsie, making a mental note along the lines of ‘mule and enforcer, pay in rats’. Within the satchel is a selection of wooden horns, ranging in length from about six inches to eighteen, each with varying texture, weight, and stain.

“Gricko this is incredible! You did all of this last night?” Kremy asks, only half paying attention to any answer he may receive.

“I told you I was good with my hannnds Kremy.” He slurs slightly, wobbling just the smallest bit.

“I had taken that for a sexual euphemism. I apologize.” Frost says, taking one of the horns and examining it.

“Well I did have a lot of Trice Melon.”

“The fuck is a trice melon?” Gideon cocks his head.

“A try smellin deez nuts.”

“You’re fucking dead as soon as I’m over this fence you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you, you’re brain’s gonna splatter all over this fucking-”

“Gid Gid Gid!” Kremy placates with a hand to Gideon’s already heaving chest. “Gricko’s just tired, let’s not destroy all of Turblek’s or whatever his name is hard work and torch the paddock while we’re at it hmm? Frost, would you kindly take Gricko to bed?”

“Yes, that would seem to be the best course of action. Come along Gricko, I’ll let you finish today’s sudoku puzzle.”

“Eugh you can keep it Frosty, you know I hate the number ones.”

Turning away, Kremy startles for a moment when he realizes his hand is still on Gideon’s chest; quickly dismisses how Gid hasn’t protested its placement.

“Right, now we can get some fucking work done. You have the glue?”

“Right here.” He smiles, gesturing to a glass filled with a viscous amber substance. “And I already tested it, it washes right out. Frosty may be missing a few patches of hair from tries one through four.”

Kremy puzzles for a moment. “Where?”

“You don’t want to know man.”

The horses in the paddock are serene, grazing and mingling amongst each other with nary a care in the world. After a long week of travel they’ve certainly enjoyed the day of rest while carnies run to and fro setting up the tents and attractions. They’re a motley crew, ranging in size from a couple of ponies all the way up to a handful of old drafts. Kremy isn’t sure where most of them came from, being perfectly honest.

When they’d first upgraded to wagons over tents he had allowed Gideon to guide the majority of the purchasing. Walking in lock step, trying to understand all the technical things he had to say; Offering his own input where it mattered and then haggling the price down as Gid loomed over his shoulder. He hadn’t had the slightest idea where to get horses beyond a livery stable and that wouldn’t do if they were to be moving long distances. Gid had disappeared into the crowd at a pub one night before returning with a grin and leading Kremy to an auction house on the edge of town. Kremy had felt like a sore thumb as they’d perused their options, Gideon occasionally stopping to run his hands over one horse or another, asking questions or sharing jokes that flew completely over his head. When it came to the actual auction, Gideon had leant down beside him, breath steaming in his ear as he instructed him what to bid, when to fold and when to press. That night they walked out with eight horses and two mules and, Gideon assured him, good deals on all of them.

Since then their little herd had grown, not from any auction house trip however. No, some days on his free nights, when he wasn’t tinkering with his rigged games, lounging in their shared wagon while Kremy did paperwork, or out on the hunt for a good time, Gideon would simply wander off. Never so abruptly that it would be hard to follow him necessarily, but gone all the same. And he’d come back with another horse. Usually it wouldn’t be much to look at, skinny or scarred up or old or lame. But over time and under Gideon’s watchful care, dull coats would turn glossy and haunted eyes would turn warm.

So Kremy doesn’t need to know where they come from, only that they’re theirs now.

Such a saccharine sentiment doesn’t do much to make this any easier however.

“Fuck!” he yelps, yanking his hand back as the little pony nips at him once again. “Would you kindly fucking stand still and let put the stupid horn on your stupid head!”

If horses had eyebrows one of them would certainly be raised in defiance as the pony most decidedly does not stand still, kindly or otherwise.

“Woah what’s going on over here man?”

“My patience is being tried.” Kremy tries not to sulk, defeated by an undersized horse.

He can see the laugh bubbling in Gid’s chest as he runs eyes over the situation. Hands covered in sticky glue, bleeding from a cut that feels worse than it looks, shirt certainly ruined, and a defiant pony staring him down like he’s the bad guy here.

“Alright Witch Stomper he’s had enough. C’mere let’s get you sorted.” And like magic the pony turns and trots up to his partner like a dog fed from the table; allowing him to affix the curling black horn to its forehead with little difficulty.

“I’m telling you Gid something’s wrong with that animal, it has evil in its eyes.” He growls, straightening his clothes as best he can without sticking anything together.

“Ah c’mon you kidding me? Stomper’s a good boy, he can just tell you’re not comfortable with him. Taking advantage of your inexperience, that's all man.” A single piercing blue eye glares into Kremy’s soul for just a moment too long before the pony tosses its head and moves off to continue whatever nefarious deeds it was in the midst of before Kremy came along. “C’mon we’ve only got a couple more to do.”

And so it seems. While Kremy was engaged in his battle of wills, Gid had gone through most of the other horses. Following close behind the larger man, all the while keeping a watchful eye for a vengeful pony, Kremy admires the ease that Gideon has with the animals. Hulking beasts eagerly offering their noses for a quick pat or snuffling into pockets for treats, letting this man walk among them and accepting him with zero hesitation.

“Lady and Stormy should be it, you have the bag?” He hands the second to last horn over to Gid, offering the glue with it. “There we go, s’all right girl. It’s okay, it’s okay.” He continues, voice low and comforting as he approaches the mare.

Lady is their newest acquisition, or Gid’s newest acquisition to be more accurate. A pinto with patches of russet and a bold white stripe running up her face. She’s a pretty thing, even to Kremy’s untrained eye, but she’s skittish and along her coat he can see patterns of scars that would probably point to something if he knew more about horses. She’s been in their company for about a month but she’s still tentative at best and downright flighty at worst. None of the hands can even get close to her when it’s time to get hitched up and ready to go, leaving her instead solely to Gid and their wagon at the head of the train, paired up in a team with an old mule Kremy thinks is named Rusty, one of the originals that they’d purchased at the auction.

Looking at her now you wouldn’t know it, with how calm she is as the horn is carefully glued to her head.

Gideon looks over his shoulder, stroking the mare’s flank while the glue sets up.

“C’mere, give her a pat.” He holds out a hand, beckoning insistently.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Gid, you know horses don’t like me.” Kremy crosses his arms in front of himself, it’s something in his gator heritage he’s sure. The scent of a predator or some such thing.

Gid huffs a laugh.

“This look like a horse to you? You are looking at a 100% bona fide unicorn.”

Kremy huffs if only to stifle a laugh. “Gods are you stupid.”

Still he moves forward. Tentatively at first but when the mare stays in place a small bit more confidence creeps into his step. He’s just a step past Gideon when Lady blows a worried breath through her nostrils, pinning her ears back and pawing at the soft summer grass with one hoof. Hurriedly he begins to take a step back, only to collide with a wall of warmth as Gid steps forward behind him. It stuns him for a moment, robs him of words as his head is filled with hot air and thoughts of warm laughs and cigar smoke.

“That’s it, it’s okay.”

Kremy’s not sure if he’s talking to him or the horse.

“Gimme your hand.” As if saying no was an option at this point.

His hand fits well in Gideon’s but that’s no surprise; he’s watched those clever hands long enough to do the arithmetic. His brain nearly leaks out of his ears like a poorly sealed shepherd's pie when he feels another hand on his waist, guiding him with gentle pressure to take another step forward; and another. Until he’s standing so close he can smell the scent of horse sweat and well oiled tack leather, a scent that follows Gideon. Gently, mostly of his own initiative after a little encouragement, he lays one hand on the flank of the mare, brushing over it with an almost delicate touch. When she doesn’t make any move to startle away he scratches through the short hairs of her hide like he would a dog. It’s relaxing, oddly: simply petting this animal, feeling the rise and fall of its great billowing lungs. Admiring the power of it, the beauty. Absorbing Gideon’s heat at his back.

“Ain’t that something.” Kremy doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to, can feel a pair of dark eyes on his face.

“You know Gid, horses aren’t really my pot of gumbo so to speak. But, I think I might come around to unicorns.”

anyone else notice that line at the end of ep. 48?

Kremy, approaching the unicorn, "What does Gid do?"

just me? amazing.

#would anyone read a rodeo au? i'll probably write it but deciding if i would post it #ah Gideon “people don't deserve to be in cages man” Coal my beloved #you cannot tell me this man doesn't have a savior complex/compassionate streak a mile wide #so he does theft about it #gideon coal #kremy lecroux #morning frost #gricko grimgrin #hootsie grimgrin #Mentioned: Torbek #Witch Stomper the pony is a transdimensional being and he has NOT forgiven Richie for what Briggsy did to him #ouaw #once upon a witchlight #legends of avantris

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dolokhoded · 4 months

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tell me, who's that writing ?

#I SAID IM FINISHING THE JOHN THING AND I DID IT. I DREW THAT CRAZY OLD MAN.#man what an arc. lamest apostle to post apocalyptic hermit pipeline.#which is even funnier cause like in greek the revelation is called apokalipsis. which. means the apocalypse.#bible fandom #john the beloved #john the revelator #im not religious just insane.jpg #remember when i had an art tag

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raayllum · 11 months

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He a friend of yours? Not anymore.

#callum x claudia #looking away motif #parallels #s2 #2x03 #severance my beloved #s4 #4x09 #let them maul each other in s5/s6. as a Treat #arc 1 #arc 2 #multi #like the way 4x09 is the first time they've seen each other since 2x07 is Fucking Crazy man #tdp #the dragon prince #i Might've made a post about this parallel before but i don't think so #think i did one on framing in this shot being Similar to 2x02 but that's it

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theladyyavilee · 1 year

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Hey, as someone newer to the fandom what is up with the sunset, construction on sunset thing?

hey nonnie! (sorry this took a while <3 I took this as an excuse to compile a full sunset meta post and there was more than I thought!) okay so this one is a little more meta even than the trapped dads meta, buuuut it is one of my favorites, because at least to me it is pretty loud and they've - especially recently - been calling back to it in very cute little ways, but the callback in this episode was the loudest in a WHILE and it is actually a beautiful parallel to the first ocurrence of the whole construction on sunset thing!

so, as far as I know it all dates back to the mention of 'there was construction on sunset, I had to take a detour' in 4x8 when Eddie returns from his math date with Ana to Buck taking care of Christopher and the connection between Ana and Sunset, which was beautifully laid out by @yramesoruniverse here in this post and there is a gifset by @catdadeddie here highlighting the parallel!!

for me personally the fact that they brought both SUNSETS aaand CONSTRUCTION back for this episode, when Eddie is dating again? yeah that was a loud choice! especially the fact that he was called over to do repair/construction work for Pepa, only the real reason (the real construction and the REAL reason for another detour he is taking on his path to love) was the blind date all along and they put not one but two pictures with a potential* sunset onto the walls in Pepa's house to make sure we saw that the 'construction was on sunset' AGAIN xD see this post by yours truly for pictures and lots of yelling! xD

*okay, I say potential sunset, because last night an anon asked about whether it is a sunset or a sunRISE and indeed we do not know for sure! now after that I went onto a google research binge and found that sunrises and sunsets are hard to distinguish on pictures, as they are the exact same phenomenon, only with movement in different directions! the only thing that sometimes makes a distinction possible is the fact that air pollution increases during the day and clears during the night, so sunrises often have a clearer and crisper feel to them than sunset, which in exchange provide more of a color spectacle caused by the increased refraction on the air pollution particles

based on that @stagefoureddiediaz, @mistmarauder and I have come more or less to the conclusion that the picture we see behind eddie could very likely be a sunrise - signaling a new beginning for him, while the picture in the living room, behind vanessa and her tia and connected to the dating of it all, is another sunset - standing for both the construction on sunset causing a detour in eddie's love life of it all, as well as a (potential) relationship coming to a close as soon as it has begun xD

now on the exact meaning of sunsets by themselves we have not yet found exact agreement, but they seem to be about endings, about the sun setting on something, as in the sun setting on a specific relationship or relationship dynamic!

(more under the cut)

so on this scene in 2x17 where we see Eddie reading Shannon's letter and more or less letting himself say goodbye to her and finally cry over this loss, while on the beach at sunset

@mistmarauder says 'Well, I don't actually think sunsets are Buddie coded. I think they're relationship coded. And really the sun is setting on his relationship with Shannon because she's gone. [...]Sunsets make me think endings. Not beginnings.' and also '[The] Sun sets on one thing and rises on another.' which after a brief conversation @stagefoureddiediaz points out doesn't quite preclude it from relating to Buddie as well by saying 'Not necessarily just because we haven’t got there yet doesn’t mean that that sunset wasn’t relevant to buddie - it’s kind of like a chapter ending - but it’s like that sunset brings on the darkness that is the tsunami which leads to the dawning of a new and different friendship - one we’re still seeing grow and change - I think if we looked at when all the sunsets appear in connection with buddie they’ll come at key moments of shift - so they’re constantly chapter endings - drawing them increasingly closer together - but it’s kind of a secondary theme with the sunsets rather than the primary one'

furthermore we have come to the conclusion that some of the smaller depictions might intentionally be ambiguous on whether or not they are a sunrise or a sunset, because at a turning point it is natural for there to be a chapter that closes and another, new one, that begins!

alright now for fun little nods to the whole sunset thing they've done since then:

we have Buck's heart drawing in 5x14 being done in sunset colors, pointed out by @fiona-fififi in this post, going perfectly with Buck 'misunderstanding the assignment' another detour having to be taken!

then we have three posts by @stagefoureddiediaz, this one about the sunset balloon at the bedside of the girl who was living a fake life in 5x15, an episode that had multiple nods to Eddie maybe also not letting himself live his life quite true to who he is! another post for 5x17 and the sunset colors on the cake for ramon's retirement! and then in this very recent costume meta for 6x13 kym points out how in the very lovely buckley-diaz scene with the math homework, Chris is wearing a shirt that has a small pineapple on it that is inlaid with a teeny tiny sunset scene!! she has also pointed out that there is a good chance that the full picture on the front of Chris' yellow shirt that he wears in the scene immediately before the Eddie/Ana break-up in 5x3 is depicting a sunrise/sunset too!

and then for two more posts that actually put various meta concepts, including 'construction' and 'sunset' into relation to each other we have this one here by @ktinastrikesback and this one by @ktinastrikesback and @fruitydiaz!!!

okay, this got kinda long, but should be most of what we have so far! which does not mean there won't be additions to this post in the near future, because we have actually decided to take a new look through all episodes under the added aspect of sunsets/sunrises, as well as actually looking at episodes that predate the Ana introduction on Sunset Boulevard, so watch this space if you want some more insanity later on xD

#9-1-1 #me answers a thing #anon #911 meta #my meta #buddie meta #sunset beloved #oh man I hope this is even remotely coherent xD #also sorry for everyone getting tagged I am trying to compile a complete overview of the sunset meta over the years xD #also trying to wrangle meta like this into post is so hard because there are always so many layers separate mentions that build #on each other xD #I'm sure I have missed stuff #PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I DID

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