luckkksss

[luckkksss]

A Fruit Fly.

———

Another tidbit from the writing I shit out.

———

Grokk had fell rather hard onto his back.

He had been foolish, upon reflection that happened once he came to his senses. He should have seen the trap. What made it worse was who had saved him.

“Gods!” Astarion complained shrilly, placing his palms firmly against Grokk’s chest, that he had also landed on.

A groan that Grokk could not stifle came out. He could not believe this… gubuk had saved his life. This was so embarrassing.

The half-orc shoves the elf off of him, clutching his side, which had also begun to ache.

Astarion recovers quickly, fixing his hair with a jerk of his head in Grokk’s direction. “You make for a lovely cushion, darling.”

Grokk had learnt to persist through the elf’s constant barbs, but this one pierced his armour. He glares at Astarion, hoping his sharp gaze will blunt his tongue or kill him, or something.

Astarion chuckles lightly, brushing off Grokk’s attack, though his eyes held a hint of concern. “You’ve found a souvenir! Can you walk?”

Unfortunately, Grokk had spent enough time around the elf that he knew he was only trying to lighten the current mood.

Blood seeped out of the wound in Grokk’s leg, and he is sure he has broken more than a few ribs. “No,” he grunts, his eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling, gritting his teeth in determination.

Seeming to absorb the severity of the situation, finally, Astarion knelt beside Grokk. “Let me deal with this, hm?” He says almost gently, placing both his hands against Grokk’s chest. His fucking smirk was gone, replaced with a surprising expression of resolve.

The rogue’s healing magic flowed through his fingers into Grokk, and the half-orc could feel his bones slipping back into place, the arrowhead sliding out and his skin knitting back together.

Huffing out his relief, Grokk sat up. He hadn’t a moment to collect his thoughts before Astarion was talking again.

“Better, darling?” He asks with a familiar tease, his hands still against Grokk’s chest. “What do we say?”

“… thank you,” the half-orc murmurs after a moment, pushing the elf’s arms off of his chest and standing up.

[luckkksss]

Thanatos

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jesus f christ i'm on fire this week

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Teenagers, am I right?

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One of my favorite Canadians

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erm yeah

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local mob boss, puffing on a cigarette angrily:

goon:

Batman, tied to a chair six feet away:

mob boss: did ya have to tie him to the chair with his legs spread open like that?

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astarioncore

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Here comes the airplane!

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Okay diva!

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Durge just got back from the kitchen.

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vampire's gaze prints | patreon

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Some more shots I took in photo mode :3

[luckkksss]

The last thing you see before getting your skull caved in.

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it's giving princess celestia

[luckkksss]

Foolish Wizards

Here, have this thing I’m never going to finish.

————

Grokk’s feet hurt.

The path to this monastery had been long and hard, and the half-orc was becoming quite irritated. His patience was vanishingly little in more normal circumstances, but this very old wizard they had come across was certainly not… normal.

“Begone,” Grokk snaps, once the old man in question was done with his endless talking. He brushes off the presence of this extravagantly dressed stranger, going to walk past him, but Gale places his hand upon Grokk’s shoulder.

“How… dare you,” the wizard reprimands. “This is Elminster Aumar! The most famed and respected wizard in all the realms!”

That was not a name the half-orc had heard of. Or perhaps he had, and did not remember. In either case, Grokk stopped in his tracks, out of respect for Gale and his opinions more than anything.

This Elminster did not seem to care about Grokk’s dismissal of him, however.

“The very same,” the old man began again, speaking to Gale. “And a fair bit miffed he is, too, finding himself forced to expose his best pair of boots so many miles of country road on your behalf.”

Grokk looks over his shoulder at the wizard, whose lips were set into a firm line.

“She sent me, Gale,” Elminster continues. “You know… of whom I speak.”

“Mystra,” Gale says, deflated.

Grokk interjects angrily. “Get on with it.”

There’s a subtle shift of surprise in Elminster’s face. “Now, now. I have been travelling for a while with nary a speck of sustenance, save for the water the heavens rain down upon me. I believe the respite of bread, cheese, and some wine will do me good, before I… get on with it.”

“I am not in the habit of taking in vagabonds,” Grokk grunts shortly.

“Ah, and yet, you took in Gale,” the very old wizard points out, sticking his index finger out at Gale. “And what is he, hm?”

The half-orc grumbles. Elminster had a point. All his companions were… vagabonds, in one way or another, including himself.

“Very well,” Grokk utters after a moment.

“I will meet you there!” Elminster says, before waving his hand and disappearing with a whoosh.

“There goes our best supplies,” Gale mumbles bitterly, once the wind had dissipated and they were on the road again.

Grokk made an effort to release all the tension in his jaw and shoulders. His eyelids felt heavy.

————

Huehuehue