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theviridianbunny · 10 months

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SCAPBOOKING - JUNE 2023

A collection of scans from my current scrapbook. Just a bunch of doodles, stickers and things that make me happy/ inspire me

notes/credits to follow under the cut:

AGHHH HI IT'S BEEN FOREVER SINCE I'VE DONE ONE OF THESE!!

a few credits and notes:

WOW - what a fun few months it's been - Not really done too much work on this scrap boom for a while (just because my brain is always in 50 places at once ahaahah!!) - had a few problems the with the scanner at my local library again (but it was still fun trying it out !!) - i am aware a few of the pages look rather... blank - I may go back and add to them soon- I think today it was just a "oH MY GOD I NEED TO GET SCANS DONE AHDHJHDFDHFJD !!!" and I BATTLED WITH THE SCANNER AND SCRAMED A LITTLE INTERNALLY BUT HERE WE ARE--- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

prited out a few of my fave jackie / viridian screenshots- also a few solo shots of my best girlie !! also went mad with stickers because you can NEVER have too many of them !! also collected the cinema tickets from when i saw john wick 4 and across the spriderverse ~

hand written note on the first page is from my dear friend bluefayt (linked her caard) - above that is a picture of me from comic con last year (taken by my fantastic irl bestie @withoutyouimsaskia <333 i love you aaaaa - we saw a bunch of star wars cosplayers and this person cosplaying as darth vader was posing for photos - they LARPed with me for a moment anf that photo was taken mid LARP - oh what an experice that was ~) sorry if you cant see it very well because of the damn contrast settings (tried to edit the scans but they ended up looking worse... so just posted the raw ones!!)

The xfiles tea packet is from @beastlybeverages !! I bought a pack of the xfiles themed tea last year after going to comic con - its a tea I really really enjoyed !!

The fith page - on the right - the postcard with the black and pink squares !! thats some serious art but my irl bestie Tim (aka 1710.film) - the post card was from an exhibition that happened when we were both at uni!!! Tim is not on tumblr- but please do check out his work- He is a photographer / conceptual artist - and one of my best dearest and lovely friends <3 you can find him on intagram here

sticker of the iron bull on page 4 is by @seonysketches - the manga ladies on pages 4 , 6 and 7 are by @pinkapplejam (find her esty here) - most of the other stickers i just had laying around - or picked up random packs in charity shops !! post cards and art cards too !! i found a whole pack of fairyloot(?) prints in a charity shop for like £2.49 and was like YOOO NEED - the art on the first pahe on the left side is of one of the main characters from these violent delights by chloe gong (WHICH I AM HOPING TO START READING SOON AGHHHH!))))

ugh um if you're at the end if this rammble your're the real mvp - thank you for coming to my ted talk wooOOOO !!!!!!!

#scrapbooking #journaling #oc: viridian #traditional art #art on tumblr #cp2077 #bunny makes art #oc: rowan hawkmore #demon slayer #cyberpunk 2077 #jackie welles #otp: to this #scrapbook journal #idk how to tag this aghhh #bunny screams into the void

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collegeoflore · 6 months

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Suspension

pairing: nb!Tav x Astarion

rating: E

word count: 1,800

description: set between Moonrise Towers and Baldur’s Gate. The relationship is still new and the looming threat of the ritual is complicating things just a smidge. They both believe this is something real, but they don’t know what something real means and aren’t quite able to trust one another yet. But sometimes things can be put aside, if only for a moment.

more info: Xarrai is a tiefling bard with the charlatan background, and an escaped Banite cultist. Any pronouns are fine (though I stick with they/them here for clarity.)

The night air is warm. Xarrai is laying between Astarion’s thighs, their back against his chest. They can feel the coolness of his skin through both of their clothes, smell the rosemary and the hint of decay. It’s become a strange comfort, now, though that isn’t the strangest part of their life these days. He nuzzles into their mop of dark curls, inhales slowly, and gently presses their head to the side. They let him, of course, offering their neck to him as easy as breathing. They are boneless in his grasp, molten sugar sweetness poured down the front of his torso. If they breathe deep enough, they can smell the smoke from their cigarettes on his shirt even though he turns up his nose every time they offer him a drag.

His cool breath ghosts over the shell of their ear. His arms are wrapped around them, hands resting on their waist, fingers on their skin where their shirt rides up. This is different than before – there was a time, not long ago, when sex would have come after (or before, or during) this, when the bite would have only been one step in their dance. But now his touch is delicate and chaste, though the kisses he presses to their neck and shoulder are decidedly less so. There’s something delicious in that – in knowing he kisses them just to kiss them, just to feel the hot war-drum beat of their heart beneath their skin. His teeth graze the spot where their shoulder meets their throat and they shudder, exhale. It isn’t desire, just sensation, raw and new. “May I?” He asks, just loud enough for them to hear. It doesn’t drip with the poisoned-honey seduction it did before, the masquerade mask Xarrai pretended they couldn’t see through. It’s lighter on his tongue now, tripping across their skin like the breeze in late autumn. There’s something almost like reverence to it. Almost.

“Of course.” Xarrai murmurs. What else could they say? Astarion lingers, briefly, all lips and no teeth, trails his way up slowly to the spot where their heart beats closest to their skin. And then they feel it, his fangs like shards of a broken mirror in their throat followed by the pleasant, floating numbness. He makes a muffled noise against them and moves his hand up to support their drooping head, his other hand splaying out on their chest. Their pulse pounds beneath his palm. They know he can feel it, the ceaseless thrumming, just as they can feel the warm, wet spill of their blood into his mouth. Xarrai is suspended, weightless, buzzing numbness spreading outward. Astarion’s hand is warmer on their chest than it was a moment before. Or perhaps they’re just colder.

In the morning, things will be different again. Maybe Astarion will make another comment about that damned ritual, and maybe Xarrai will bristle, but only just. Or maybe he won’t. Maybe it will be just the same as tonight. Dancing around the thing that waits for them in Baldur’s Gate like a gilded guillotine. Either way, Xarrai will not quite trust him. Either way, they will weave the truth between lies because it is all they know how to do.

But this - Astarion holding them against his chest, their blood filling his mouth - this requires trust. They trust he will not drink too deeply. He trusts they will not turn on him for it. They trust each other because they must, because they have no choice when his lips are on their throat and the knife strapped to their thigh is pressing against his leg. There is hardly a division between them like this; Xarrai’s heart pumps their blood through both of their bodies, their hand grips his arm across their chest. They are one, the same frightened animal. Xarrai’s tadpole squirms, tries to reach his but they stop it just short of making the connection. They don’t need it.

They trust him. What else could they do?

Astarion pulls away before the numbness spreads too far. He makes a familiar little noise, that sharp half-laugh that has found a home in the folds of Xarrai’s mind, now. “Incredible.” He murmurs, somewhere between the tone he takes after they kiss him, just this side of too much, and the almost-reverence of his voice before his teeth touch their skin. If Xarrai listens hard enough, it could be something real.

Xarrai laughs a little too, eyes still closed. “No need for flattery, darling.” They drawl, head still cradled in his hand. “Though, I’m not complaining…”

“It’s not flattery.” Astarion says. Xarrai wonders what his eyes would look like if they could see them – are they ruby-sharp or sweet as blood? Their head spins. They lean it back against his shoulder. His voice drops lower, a playful facsimile of seduction, an encore of a trick that didn’t land to begin with. “But if it’s flattery you want—“

“Gods, not the bullshit pickup lines again.” Xarrai groans. “If you try to call me your ‘little treat’ one more time, I will dump you in the river.” Astarion’s hand slips away from their chest, finds its place again by the hem of their shirt, skin on skin.

“I’ve not known you to turn down shallow praise.” Astarion’s voice is low and velvet soft. Xarrai can hear the smile in it, sharp as his pointed teeth

“Just tell me I’m beautiful.” Xarrai mimics his accent, just a little more polished than their own, their lips curled into a crooked grin. Astarion laughs. His breath is very nearly warm against their skin.

“You’re beautiful.” Xarrai trusts him enough to know he means it, even if it sounds like he’s joking. They wonder if that’s a foolish thing to do, trusting him. But then again, they’re rarely more than the fool. Unless they’re the rake. Unless they’re this, whatever this is: a raw nerve, a lit fuse. Vulnerable. Astarion licks the blood from their neck, slowly, methodically. He won’t waste a single drop. They give him this gift freely, without expectation, and he knows better than to squander it. “These marks will be permanent if we keep doing this, you know.” He says, precisely casual. He removes his hand from their hair, careful to keep their head balanced against his shoulder. They don’t open their eyes.

The sky above them is the same cloud-black as the inside of their eyelids, anyway. Their companions are all asleep – Xarrai can hear Karlach snoring next to the fire a few dozen paces away. “Is that a problem?” They echo his perfect placidity. He steps forward, they step back. One of them will have to break, to tell the truth one way or another.

It’s him. Astarion pulls their shirt back up onto their shoulder, smooths it carefully into place. The curve of their horn brushes his cheek. “I suppose not.” It’s light, airy. Flippant enough to be dangerous. Close enough to be true. Xarrai hears what he doesn’t say, too. You would really give me this? His hand brushes the side of their neck again, trails down their arm until he laces his fingers with theirs. It’s almost like caretaking, the way he holds them after he drinks, though he wouldn’t admit it. It’s no different from the way he mends the lining of their coat, no different from the way Xarrai rubs oil into his leathers in the firelight. They still trust him. Or close to it, anyway.

In the morning, Xarrai will remember this gift is not enough. They will see the hunger and the fear grow in his eyes with every step they take towards Baldur’s Gate and the weight of what he asks of them will settle again on their tongue like lead. The empty promises, his clumsy attempts to appeal to the ambition they hold like a knife to their own throat, all of it will still be there in the morning’s light. The same light that will paint him with a golden brush, brilliant and dazzling; the same light that will make him dangerous and irresistible. In the morning, they will be afraid again – afraid of the Absolute, afraid of the Black Hand that threatens to close around them, afraid of Cazador’s ritual and the ruin it could bring. Afraid of playing the wrong chord and sending the whole fragile melody they’ve been writing out of key. Afraid of breaking the only mirror that shows them plain.

But now? Now, Xarrai opens their eyes. Astarion is still there, still has his arm around their waist, his fingers laced with theirs. His eyes are not rubies but the molten sweetness of blood, and for one more moment they trust him, and he trusts them. Xarrai grins, all teeth, and reaches up to swipe the trickle of blood – their blood – from the corner of his mouth with their thumb. They don’t have to say anything. He licks it clean. For a breath, they stay like that - Xarrai’s hand on Astarion’s cheek, their thumb on his lips – as if suspended in the late summer air, floating.

It’s Xarrai who breaks it. Their cigarette case sits open next to Astarion’s knee, one last cigarette tucked inside, and they lean forward to snatch it. “I’ll share.” They look up at him again, holding their cigarette invitingly, one eyebrow raised, teeth glinting in the firelight when they smile. They know what he’ll say, but it’s all part of the ritual.

“Ugh, no.” Astarion huffs, scowling. “Do you really have to do that? You’re going to get ash on my carpet.” He doesn’t move away from them, despite his protests. He doesn’t acknowledge the ash already ground into the rug. His hand stays splayed on their stomach; his other clutches theirs until they pull it away. He rests it on their thigh instead, idly picking at the strap that holds their knife in place against the fabric of their trousers.

Xarrai snaps, and their fingertips light with a tiny blue flame. A party trick. The light dances on Astarion’s face, makes him look hilariously severe from this angle. “Unless you want to go find me a drink?” Xarrai gives him an exaggerated waggle of their eyebrows, smiling a touch too wide. He huffs and makes no move to get up, instead settling back into the pillows and turning his face to the starless sky with a dramatic sigh. Xarrai just laughs, a low, quick sound, and lights the cigarette. They breathe deep, feel the smoke fill their lungs. It’s a different numbness, a warm floating feeling in their chest. They exhale and watch the cloud disappear into the air. They lean their head against Astarion’s shoulder again.

In the morning they will be afraid. But not tonight. Not tonight.

#astarion #astarion/tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #oc. xarrai #r. hold me like a knife #story journal #idk what tags people are using for this game….#anyway hi. i finally posted some actual fiction please enjoy :)#mwah mwah

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