#because I genuinely don't understand anymore

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most p.4 | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You attend the Lestrange Gala on Rabastan's arm, finally making your family proud. But all things must come to the light, and with time running out, a decision must be made.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pure blood ideology, manipulative and abusive families, angst angst angst, protective!Sirius, hurt/comfort, HEA

AN: wow! this is long! but ahhh! can't believe we've reached the final part of the series!! but don't worry, I'm not done with this one quite yet...

series navigation | part one | part two | part three | masterlist

You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but the words were swimming on the page, taking the shape of your argument with Sirius.

He's lying to you.

You don't understand.

Please don't leave.

He'd been so passionate, so single-minded in his desire for you—it scared the shit out of you. His words were pretty, his intentions righteous, but was that enough?

For so long, the story of your life has been drilled into your head. Over and over and over again. A wealthy man's wife, the jewel of his crown, the mother of his children, keeper of the bloodline.

What were you beyond that? Who were you, if not obedient?

The train rolled loudly beneath you, the Scottish country side a blur of green and gray. It was a long weekend, and it seemed loads of students were taking advantage.

Before boarding, you caught a glimpse of James and Sirius with some bags waiting in a patch of sunshine. Of course James Potter would use a free weekend to visit his parents.

Sirius was puffing on a cigarette, staring down at the tracks while James talked animatedly about something you couldn't hear. He looked…sad. And you turned away, following your brother onto the back of the train.

You were in a compartment with Thorfinn, his long legs stretched out and resting on the cushion beside you, his head lolled against the window. But you knew he wasn't sleeping, because his snores would rattle the windows more than the train.

He was oddly quiet, though, and the threat of danger buzzed like a gnat around your head. You wished you'd insisted on sharing at compartment with Rab, but Thorfinn dragged you away before you could open your mouth.

“What are you staring at?” He gruffed, peaking open one of his eyes to peer at you.

You hurriedly looked down at your book, but it was too late. He pushed himself up, cracking his thick neck before bracing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards you.

“We need to talk.”

You closed your book, setting it aside with trembling fingers. “What about?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. A bizarrely human gesture of discomfort. “Father wrote two weeks ago, the—the business is not going well.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

It looked like it genuinely pained him to be telling you this, and your addled mind couldn't begin to decipher it. “We're running out of money, y/n. Rapidly. If things continue, we may lose…” he trailed off, staring down at his fine leather shoes. “We may lose everything.”

“Why are you just telling me this now?” You asked, voice tight with fear. Was there anything secure in your life anymore? At every turn, if seemed danger and uncertainty lurked.

All you ever wanted was safety, and that seemed more impossible by the day.

“I didn't want it to affect—” he waved vaguely towards the closed compartment door. Towards Rabastan. “I didn't want it to be a factor. Father told me to keep it from you, but sister—” he reached for your hand, the bandage removed by Madame Pomfry that morning, and it took every ounce of willpower you'd built to not pull away. “You may be our last hope.”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes. “I can't, Thor—”

“You already are,” he said. “With the Lestrange's on our side, Father can turn this around. Save our family.”

You held his icy gaze, shocked by what was transpiring. Thor hadn't spoken to you like this in…Merlin, years? He'd become so tight-lipped, so hostile, you'd forgotten that there was man inside that brutal, glacial exterior.

But…was he a man you trusted?

“I should go to him now, then,” you said, the compartment suddenly stifling. “Have some quiet time before the party.”

Thorfinn nodded. “I'm not supposed to allow unsupervised meetings, but…this once I can let it slide.”

“Thank you, brother.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, surprising him, before slipping out of the compartment before he changed his mind.

You slumped against the wall, catching your breath and wiping tears from your cheeks. How had this all ended up on your shoulders? Your family, your future, your feelings, Sirius’ feelings—it was too much.

All you ever wanted was safety. Security.

For a moment of delirious hope you thought about tracing down Sirius’ compartment, begging him to take you to the Potter Manor with him. Let yourself want him as recklessly as he did you. But what Sirius offered was a pipedream, a fantasy, and you'd always been a practical girl.

You could only see one reality laid before you. Unrolled like a red carpet at your feet.

No matter how you felt about Sirius, how much you felt for him, could you risk everything for a shot at something as fickle as love?

What happened when he got tired of you in six months? When the novelty wore off? When the heat of an illicit affair turned tepid and stale?

Sirius would resent you. You would resent him. It could only end in heartbreak for the both you. Could only end in pain.

You raped a knuckle on the door of Rabastan's compartment.

“Come in,” he called, sounding a bit distracted.

You slid open the door, peaking your head in. “Am I disturbing you?”

He closed the book in his lap, setting aside the quill in his hand for notes. Dressed in luxurious clothes, even for a train ride he thought he'd be spending alone. “Never, darling. Are you alright?”

You sat on the cushion beside him, his dark eyes sweeping over you, tangible as a caress. “Thorfinn is snoring too loud for me to think straight,” you lied. “And I thought maybe we could spend some time together, before tonight?”

He smiled, turning so his back was braced against the train window and he was facing you, one leg propped up on the seat. It was a casual position, spread out and languid, and your cheeks flushed with heat at the near indecency of it.

Rabastan never did anything by mistake, and this was no exception. His perceptive eyes watched your reaction, and something sinful flickered to life in them as the blush stained your skin.

“Your brother was under strict orders to prevent unsupervised interactions,” Rab pointed out, tilting his head slightly.

“We'll be in London by the time he wakes up, he won't even notice,” you replied.

He made a soft, contemplative sound in his throat. “I didn't take you for the rebellious type, little doe.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face, revealing every sharp angle and curve, a face carved by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Flawless.

You'd make beautiful, perfectly pureblood children, that was for sure. Not that you cared much for that, beauty or blood status, and you hadn't ever really contemplated whether you wanted children. It was just what was done.

“I'm not, usually,” you said. “I'm not sure what's come over me.” At least that wasn't entirely a lie.

“You always have this lost look in your eye,” he murmured. “Beautiful, fuck, you're beautiful. But sad, aren't you?”

His words struck a chord, tears brimming once more, weighing down the buoyancy of his praise.

You were so tired of being sad all the time, afraid. You just wanted to forget for awhile, and just be.

Rab shifted, setting his feet on the ground and moving closer to you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Darling, I could make you so happy.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, achingly tender, and a sob wrenched itself from your chest. “Sh, sh, my love, it's alright now.” He swiped away your tears with his thumbs. “You're safe with me. You'll never know hardship or pain again, if you just let me take care of you.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes, his expression painfully sincere. And you knew he meant it, knew that he would never let harm come to his wife. If you were his, you were as secure as gold in Gringott's. Untouchable.

“Just tell me what you need from me, and it's yours,” he whispered, eyes shimmering with promise.

Right now, all you wanted was to forget. To feel something other than gnawing, consuming fear.

“Don't want to think anymore,” you breathed. “I'm so tired of thinking.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, sharp as a dagger and twice as dangerous. “I think I can manage that.” He dragged you towards him, molding his lips to yours. You leaned into him, letting his mouth guide yours through the lush, toe-curling kiss. His tongue glided over your lower lip, tasting you, and you parted for him, moaning as his tongue twined with yours.

Rab felt so good, so assured and deliberate. It was easy to give in to him, to let him take the lead.

One of his arms looped around your waist, hauling you up and into his lap, straddling him. His hand on your face slid into your hair, gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, heat spilling into your lower belly. You gave a tentative roll of your hips, desperate for more than a kiss, and you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Eager, darling?” He purred, kissing down your neck. “As tempting as you are, little doe, there will be none of that until you're mine.”

“Rab,” you whined, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders, head tipping back to give him more access.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as he thrust his hips up, making you gasp. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me what a perfect little wife you'll be.”

His words send a terrifying, exhilarating thrill through your body, a visceral reaction beyond rationality. It was a like a drunk being passed a handle of whiskey, everything you ever wanted at your fingertips.

Pretty little wife.

A path. A plan. A purpose.

You rocked your hips against him again, crying out when the thick bulge of his cock grazed your clit. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, it felt so good, losing yourself in him. Letting the world slip free from your shoulders like the moans slipping from your lips.

Rab chuckled low in his throat, his hand skimming down your stomach, dipping beneath your skirt and panties to feel your dripping pussy, leaking obediently into his hand as his middle finger swirled your entrance. “You're a vision, darling. Absolute perfection,” he praised, the words hot and breathy against your skin. “Being so good.” His finger slipped inside of you, curling against your gooey walls, and you keened, aching thighs working you even faster against his palm.

“Mmph—Rab, m’so close,” you whimpered, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Go on, let go for me. There's my precious girl, that's it—” his whispered encouragement sent you over the edge, muffling your cry into his neck as pleasure seized you, hips bucking erratically as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped, heart pounding in your ears, between your legs, as you slowly returned to earth, melting into his sturdy embrace.

Rabastan slid his fingers from you, taking a small taste of you for himself before feeding the digit between your lips. “Well done, love. Came so pretty for me.” He kissed along your temple, your cheek while you sucked yourself off of his finger.

He withdrew his finger, patting your cheek like you would an obedient dog, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd crawled into his lap like a bitch in heat, desperate and lonely, and so pathetic—your whole body stiffened in his arms, fighting the urge to recoil from him.

How could you have done this? Walked into his trap so willingly after everything? Betrayed Sirius’ open-heart so completely?

It took everything in you to swallow the tears forcing their way up your throat.

The train whistled, long and ear-splitting, and you jumped off his lap, so relieved your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

“Thor is going to wake up, I have to go.” You righted yourself, willfully ignoring the wet spot you left on his designer trousers, the raging hard on still tenting in his lap. “I'll see you tonight?”

“Run along, little doe. I'll see you tonight.” He waved you away.

You hurried back into the hall, nearly tipping over your feet when the train started to slow as it approached the station.

Thor wrenched open the compartment door, blue eyes landing on you. You have him a stiff nod, knowing what he wanted from you, and he grinned, jagged as the spikes of a bear trap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The emerald gown Rab selected for you was exquisite, tailored to perfection from its halter neckline to the slit reaching towards your hip. It looked like it had been poured onto you, hugging every curve. You should feel beautiful, but instead you felt deeply vulnerable. Like you may as well walk out there naked. All your secrets from the last month written across your skin.

After departing from the train, you and Thorfinn met up with your parents for tea, and you endured their endless questions and backhanded praise, leaving you feeling battered and even more ashamed than you already had.

It all felt so…hopeless.

Your eye wandered to your trunk, where the invisibility cloak was hidden away. A final sliver of hope. You didn't think you were brave enough to use it, if this morning was any indication. But you'd brought it anyways, knowing it was what Sirius wanted.

Your mind tugged one way, your heart another. Without this marriage your family could be left destitute. Your future a compete mystery.

And clearly, the allure of Rabastan's security and power was more formidable than you'd bargained for. The slightest push, and you'd folded. Fear making you desperate, foolish, cowardly.

And maybe that's what you were. Maybe Sirius was wrong about you.

The door to your suite creaked open, your mother sticking her head through the crack. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes, mother,” you replied, rising from your makeup table and smoothing your dress. “I'm ready.”

You walked arm and arm with your mother down to the party, tuning out her endless instructions on how you should act and heave, who you should speak to, who you should ignore.

But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, she fell silent in awe. It was stunningly lavish, every table dripping in velvet and diamonds,the glittering chandeliers overhead extravagant enough to compete with Gringotts. The marble floor clicked under your heels, the sound swallowed up by the band on the stage and the mingling voices floating on the air.

You knew the Lestrange's were wealthy, but this…

“Ah! There are my beautiful girls!” Your father appeared, Reinhard Lestrange on his left, Rabastan and Rodolpus flanking him like sentinels. “Don't you look lovely, darling.” Your father took your hands, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and you had to fight to control your expression. Your father never showed affection

Unconsciously, you glanced up at Rabastan. His eyes were trained on you, a pleased gleam lighting up his face, and you flushed. Reinhard seemed to notice the exchange, and looked at you with more interest.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” he drawled, his voice having the same smooth cadence as his younger son. “Reinhard Lestrange.” He offered a hand, and you placed your fingers in his, and he brushed a kiss to your knuckles.

“It's an honor, sir,” you cooed despite your heart beating wildly in your chest, curtsying low.

A small smile ghosted his mouth, an echo of Rabastan's. “No wonder my son is so besotted, it's rare to meet such a competent young lady. Let alone one as striking as you.”

Besotted. You caught Rodolpus and Rabastan exchange a look, Rodolpus a teasing smirk, Rabastan a half-hearted glare.

“I only have my parents to thank for my nature, sir,” you said, and your parents beamed.

Reinhard chuckled. “So, what went wrong with your brother then?” Reinhard teased, surprising you with his sense of humor.

“Well, there's always one,” you shrugged, glancing at Rodolpus, and Reinhard burst out laughing.

Rabastan gave you a proud wink, and you bit your lip to stop from grinning. Rodolpus chuckled too, elbowing his brother, and you exhaled in relief. Maybe you could do this.

“Quite right, darling. Lucky Bella didn't hear that though, she's rip those pretty eyes right out.” Reinhard clapped Rodolpus on the shoulder. “Come, dinners about to begin.”

Rabastan swooped in as your party began to move, looping your arm through his. He looked wonderful, like one of those American movies stars, so dapper in his perfectly pressed black suit.

He leaned down towards you, keeping you close as you navigated the crowd. “Masterfully done, darling. I haven't seen my father laugh in weeks.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, waving at Evan and Regulus as you walked past them, their jaws a bit slack as they stared at you.

Rab cast them a warning glare, and they snapped their heads back to one another. “You look beautiful, though I doubt it needs to be said considering the trail of broken necks.”

“It's the dress, Rab. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn,” you said, looking up at him through dark lashes. “I'm so grateful.”

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You'll have a closet full of the finest things, little doe.”

You reached the table and he pulled a chair out for you. You sat down, letting him slide you closer to he table before taking his seat beside you, to the right of his brother. Thorfinn sat beside your father, who was at Reinhards left. Your brother cast you an appraising glance, but turned his attention back to your father with barely an acknowledgement. Your heart deflated a bit.

Rabastan shook his head, frowning at the hurt tugging down the corners of your mouth. “And I thought my brother was an arse.”

“I resent that,” Rodolpus muttered, taking a sip of champagne. His wild-haired wife sat beside him, curled around his arm like a snake, her eyes meandering over your face.

Bellatrix Lestrange, once a Black. You could see the Black genes written all over her, from the bone structure to the haunting gray eyes. A jilted pang made you wince down at your plate.

How badly you wished Sirius was here. And he would be, you supposed, if Walburga and Orion Black weren't despicable wastes of oxygen.

You glanced down the table, finding them sitting with Regulus' between them, his eyes cast down at his plate while his parents talked over his head. From the movement of Walburgas mouth, you knew what they were talking about: Sirius.

Regulus felt your gaze and looked up, his eyes connecting with yours. His jaw feathered with tension, and thread of connection in spooling between you. He must see the hurt reflected in your eyes well.

You looked away.

Dinner dragged down for what felt like eons, tiny plate after tiny plate of priceless, exotic food, and endless flutes of champagne.

After dessert, Rabastan coaxed you out onto the dancefloor, where you waltzed and turned for another hour or so. But you couldn't get Regulus' expression out of your mind, couldn't shake the harrowing feeling it left behind.

We aren't supposed to be here, it screamed.

You'd never particularly enjoyed these parties, volleying with Sirius had always been your favorite part even if you'd never admit it. You felt his absence like a missing rib.

Had you ever missed Rabastan like that? Felt a moment was lacking, a meal was tasteless, a song was hollow, because Rabastan wasn't there to enjoy it with you?

The answer came with dizzying clarity: not even once.

But you felt it constantly with Sirius. Even at the wretched party, you so wished he could hear the sonorous band, or got to taste the bizarrely sweet squid patté just so you could exchange the same disgusted glance.

Everything felt brighter, lighter with Sirius.

But, the toll of the Lestrange clocktower sounded like a death knell. There was no going back.

You heart fractured, sending a wave of despair so intense, you stumbled over Rabastan’s foot.

He hauled you closer to his chest, steadying you. “Are you alright, darling?” He murmured, gently brushing your hair from your forehead. “Ready to sit for a spell?”

You nodded, allowing him to escort you towards a set of chairs in a quieter corner of the party. He flagged down a waiter to bring you a glass of water, and procured a fan from another.

“I have some business to discuss with my father, will you be alright on your own for a bit?” He asked, petting the top of your head.

“I'm alright, thank you, Rab,” you replied, taking a sip of water to try and force down the knot of emotion in your throat.

He kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. You noticed your brother peel off from his place at the bar with some girl to follow him, and alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind.

You had a terrible, bone-deep feeling that the business they were discussing was you.

When you looked around, no one was paying you any mind. Your parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither were the male Lestrange's.

This might be your only chance to find out what they had in store for you.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention, you made your way out of the party and up to your room, fanning yourself and hoping anyone that noticed you would simply think you were poorly and retiring to your room.

You ditched your heels and grabbed the invisibility cloak, wrapping around yourself. You watched yourself disappear in the mirror, and a thrill of excitement shot up your spine. Sirius' cologne still lingered on the fabric, and it brought you a bit of comfort.

After stuffing some pillows under your duvet, you slipped out of the room, invisible as a wraith, a closed the door softly behind you. You hurried down the halls of the massive manor, wracking your brain to remember the brief tour their house Rabastan gave you upon arrival. You turned down the hall you remembered him skipping over, the walls decorated with art too fine to be unimportant like he'd implied.

A few feet down the hall, you could hear your father's voice floating through a crack in the door.

“This is my daughter we're talking about, Lestrange,” he bit.

“What you're proposing is absurd, Rowle,” Reinhard replied, sounding almost bored. “Especially considering it seems she'd marry my son of her own volition.”

“Not without our permission, she wouldn't. And she will have no such blessing until the amount is paid in full.”

Your throat dried. What amount?

Rabastan chuckled, the sound low and patronizing. “You think she cares what you think, Thorfinn?”

“Of course she does,” your father snapped. “Don't pretend you know her, or care about her.”

Silence echoed around the hall, drawn to a razors edge. You shifted to peer into the room, finding Rabastan leaning against his father's desk, eyes dark with rage.

Thorfinn stepped between Rabastan and your father, and Rodolpus moved to stand beside his younger brother, looking decidedly more casual than the rest of them.

Rodolpus alone could mop the floor with your family, and they knew it.

“Care about her?” Rabastan growled. “Have you not come to my house to sell her like merchandise?”

“Rabastan,” Reinhard warned.

Rabastan pushed off the desk, prowling closer. “Merchandise, which, I feel inclined to mention, you damaged?”

Your stomach dropped, and Thorfinn blanched.

“What?” Your father hissed, turning to Thorfinn.

“Damaged how?” Reinhard asked, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Rabastan went quiet, letting Thorfinn sweat, before he shook his head. “Damaged metaphorically, of course,” he said, leaning back against the desk and Thorfinn sagged a bit in relief.

“Regardless, you ask too much, Rowle,” Reinhard continued, casting a warning glare at Rabastan.

“How much would a daughter of your own be worth, Reinhard?” Your mother asked, and you gasped. Your mother was never one to speak out of turn.

Reinhard’s expression darkened. “That's the difference between us, witch. I would never put a price on my child's head,” he snarled. “I've only agreed to be a part of this because my son insisted.”

You braced a hand on the wall, shock rocking through you. Not only were they trying to sell you, Rabastan wanted to buy you?

“Father—”

“Enough. I know you're soft on the girl, but—”

“Fine,” your father interrupted, making Reinhard grit his teeth. “Make it 15,000 galleons.”

You felt like you might be sick. How could you family do this to you? Thorfinn's words earlier echoed in your mind. The business is not going well. You may be our last hope.

You didn't realize he meant it so literally.

Reinhard looked at Rabastan. “Is she worth it, son?”

You couldn't stick around for his answer. You took off down the hall, bare feet slapping on the marble, tears streaming down your face.

An arranged marriage, one of mutual gain, was one thing, but to be sold? It made you sick. How could Rabastan agree to that? How could he touch you, kiss you, knowing that he was purchasing you like livestock? Had you ever had a choice? Would they drag you down the aisle in shackles?

You pushed your way through the party and out the grand front doors, flying down the steps. The ground was frigid and rough beneath your bare feet, but you ran anyways, leaving the shadow of Lestrange Manor far behind you.

You couldn't get back Hogwarts without the train, and there was only one other place you could think of to go.

In a sickening whirl of color, the spell spit you out on the stone steps of candlelit porch, framed with enchanted flowers that bloomed brightly despite the winter chill: Potter Manor.

You stared up at the front door, heart racing so fast you could barely breathe. There was no turning back from this.

You reached a hand up and knocked three times.

A few moments later, James pulled open the door, dressed like he was about to go to sleep. Fuck, you hadn't even considered how late it was.

“Y/n?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry, I—”

“Y/n?” Sirius pushed in front of James, eyes wide. He was shirtless, flannel sweatpants slung low. His smattering of archaic ink a stark contrast to his fair skin, and for a second you forgot what you were doing here. “Are you okay?” Sirius asked, ushering you into the foyer and closing the door. “Are you hurt?” He pushed the cloak from your shoulders, revealing the gown you were wearing, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“No, no. I—” a sob welled up, choking off your voice.

“Oh, darling, come here.” He bundled you into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around your body while you cried into the curve of his neck, fists balled up against his abdomen. “Sh, sh, it's alright, love. I've got you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses into the side of your head. “I've got you now.”

He held you a bit tighter, lifting you into a bridal holding, making you cry harder.

“What's going on?” You heard an unfamiliar man ask, and you clung tighter to Sirius, fear streaking through you.

“Shh, it's James' father. You're safe,” he whispered, carrying you across the house and depositing you onto a chaise in a sitting room.

Distantly, you could hear James explaining who you were in a hushed voice.

“I didn't know where else you go,” you sniffled, taking a stuttering inhale. “I'm sorry for barging in.”

“Nonsense,” he shushed you, crouching down in front of you and offering a handkerchief. “You're right where your meant to be.”

You dabbed your eyes and nose, smearing mascara all over the clean fabric and cringed.

“Can you tell me what happened, love?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“They—he—” your voice splintered, another wave of panic and sobs dragging you under.

“Okay, you don't have to say anything.” He shifted to sit on the couch and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you trembled. You buried your face into his neck and let yourself cry, and cry, and cry.

All the stress and fear of the last few weeks bubbled up and poured out of you until you were gasping, hollowed out and raw.

Something shuffled in the room, and you suddenly remembered you were not alone. Sirius appeared to have the same realization, glancing over his shoulder at his friend and his parents.

You braced yourself for the barrage of questions, but instead you heard James’ mother murmur, “Would she like some tea?”

“Love?” Sirius asked, turning to you. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, embarrassment scorching your cheeks. “M'okay, thank you Mrs. Potter,” you mumbled.

“Chamomile tea would be great, mama, thank you,” Sirius answered for you, a twinge of exasperated affection in his voice.

“’Course. Be back in a bit,” she said, her voice so gentle it brought tears to your eyes once again, and you heard three sets of slippers shuffle out.

“Look at me,” Sirius murmured, cradling your face and lifting your head from the crook of his shoulder. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I let my own feelings cloud my judgement and I—I’m so sorry if I frightened you.”

“It frightened me because it was true.” You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and small. “Because I wasn't ready to face it.”

“And now?” His gray eyes welled with something dangerously close to hope, and your heart gave a silly little flip.

For the first time, you didn't try to fight it. You just let the feeling bloom in your chest, warm and glittery, and you nodded into his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Now I know that I was building my life, myself, around a lie. None of it was real—” tears threatened to choke you again, but you fought them down. “How I feel about you is the only thing I know isn't stained by their lies. I know that it comes from me, the real me. And that’s why it scared me so much. They taught me not to trust myself…”

Sirius was quiet, eyes glossy with unshed tears, his thumb catching a stray tear as it rolled down your cheek.

You weren't sure if you were ready to give voice to what you heard, but you wanted to offer some kind of explanation for your sudden appearance. “I overheard something, and my instincts were screaming at me, and I just…I listened.”

“That's good, love. That was the right thing to do,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles around your back. “And I'm glad you came here.”

James sauntered into the sitting room, tray in hand. “I was wondering where the cloak went,” he said, crouching down in front of you and handing you a mug of tea. “You alright, mate?”

Mate. The word made your broken heart glow.

“I thought you ran it by him?” You asked, quirking a brow at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. “James is a loud mouth.”

“Hey!”

“I heard you tried to go toe to toe with my brother,” you said, providing further proof of Sirius' accusation.

“And I'd do it again,” James huffed. “I'll do it now, if you want. Where is he?”

“Not Thorfinn, unfortunately. But you can tangle with me, if you'd like.” A low voice filled the room, startling the three of you to your feet. Rabastan stood leaned against the doorway, twirling his wand in his fingers. “Trusting sort, the Potters. Let me right in.”

James bolted out of the room in search of his parents and Sirius withdrew his wand, tugging you behind him.

“What did you do?” Sirius growled, and Rab rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, cousin. Now, get your hands off of my girl.” Rab straightened to his full height, but Sirius didn't falter.

Fuck this. “I heard you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Sirius and raising your own wand as you stalked towards him. “I heard you talking with my parents. You fucking bought me?”

Rabastan's smug smile dropped. “No, I--”

“What am I worth, Rabastan? 15,000 galleons? Twenty?” you hissed, jabbing your wand under his chin.

“You didn't stick around for my answer, darling?” He countered, taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. “I said you were worth the trip to Azkaban after I gutted your brother like a fucking fish.”

You blinked. “What—”

“We were never going to buy you,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Or at least, I wasn't. I would only have you if you wanted me in return.” His fingers came up to caress your cheek, and you flinched away, taking a step back. “I thought you wanted me too,” he whispered, hurt straining the edges of his voice.

“You've been lying to me,” you said, taking another step back. “I can't trust you, or any of them.”

Rab's jaw flexed, his chin dropping to his chest in shame. “I'm sorry, little doe—”

“Don't fucking call me that.”

He turned his head like you’d slapped him, his hand flexing around his wand, eyes squeezing shut. A part of your heart ached with guilt, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

James returned, wand raised. “You need to get out, Lestrange. Now,” he ordered.

“James, wait,” Sirius said, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “So, you didn't go through with it?” The question was directed at Rab, who lifted his head to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“That’s why I came,” he said, looking back at you. “I called it off. All of it. But I need you to understand, you...you can’t go home.”

“What?” Panic closed like a fist around your throat.

“I’m sorry, darl—y/n.” He took a tentative step towards you, pocketing his wand. “When we discovered that you ran, your father—he disowned you.”

You sagged to the side, Sirius catching you around the waist. They disowned you. Cast you side like damaged goods. Like you were worthless to them now. “W-what?”

The room tilted around you again, your vision tunneling to a pinprick--

“Easy, love.” Sirius eased you back onto the chaise, cupping your face in an effort to keep you tethered to consciousness. “Take a breath for me, in—good girl—now breath out. Nice and long, that’s it.”

You followed his instructions, taking big, deep breaths until the darkness at the edge of your vision receded, your heart rate starting to slow.

“All they’ve done is set you free, doll,” Sirius said, smoothing your hair from your face. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Where will I go?” You sniffed, clutching at Sirius’ shirt. Over his shoulder, you saw pain flicker across Rabastan’s face, but he looked away, towards James.

“If I provide a stipend, would your family be able to house her? Since you Potter’s like stray’s so much?” He gestured to Sirius.

“It’s up to her,” Sirius interrupted, throwing his cousin a glare. “She can go where she wants.”

“You’re more than welcome,” James said, looking past the others towards you. “We’ve got plenty of room, no stipend required.” The last bit was directed at Rab, his voice turning barbed.

“The semester’s almost over,” Sirius added. “Could stay for the summer, than get your own place in London. If that's what you want to do.”

“And we’ll keep your brother far away, if needed,” Rabastan added. “I meant what I said. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Despite yourself, some of your resentment towards him loosened. He’d done the right thing in the end, and perhaps it wasn’t all a lie. This world had chewed you all up, one way or another, how much could you fault him for baring the scars of the monster that made him?

Those same scars nearly cost you everything. Everything being the man on his knees in front of you, the sincerest and most loyal person you'd ever known. The only person you ever trusted unconditionally and without restraint. He was everything you'd ever wanted, you'd just been to blinded by fear to see it.

“Thank you, Rab,” you murmured, and he dipped his chin. “And thank you, James,” you said, and he gave you two thumbs up. You took Sirius’ chin, turning his face to yours. “And you, Sirius, there aren’t enough ‘thank you’s’ in the world,” you whispered, and the smile he gave you was so lovesick, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” he said, taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, beating rhythmically in the center of his bare chest. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love. I’ll maim Lestrange’s pretty face right now if you want—”

“Fuck off, mutt—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you chuckled, leaning in to peck Sirius’ lips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I suppose that’s my cue,” Rabastan said, adjusting his cuffs and looking everywhere but you and Sirius. “I’ll see you around the common room, then?”

“We’ll see—”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over Sirius’ mouth, silencing his attitude. He nibbled your palm in retaliation.

Rabastan dipped his chin in farewell and took his leave, glancing back at you a final time before stepping out into the quiet night.

You lowered your hand from Sirius’ mouth, giving him a phony scowl, and he bared his teeth, teasing you back.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” James said, rubbing the back of his head. “Sirius can show you to the empty guest room, though I suppose you won’t be using it—oi!” Sirius launched a pillow at James’ head, and he scampered away, disappearing down the hall.

Sirius turned his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, holding your hands in his.

You nodded. “I’m okay…afraid, I suppose. But in a different way.” You traced the web of your fingers with your eyes, and brought your joined hands up to kiss across his scarred knuckles. “But Sirius, I’m not sure we should jump into anything quite yet.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes lingering on your lips. “We’ll go at your pace, whatever you want—so long as I can kiss you every six hours.”

You grinned, affection blooming like a burst of sunlight in your chest. “I think we can arrange that.” You leaned forward, pressing your tear-dampened lips to his, and for the first time, it didn’t hit you where it hurts the most, in your battered, bruised heart. It touched your soul instead, somewhere deeper, uncharted.

Somewhere new.

Thank you so much to everyone that read and supported this series! I'm so proud of it, and it was a joy to scream about it with you all 🫶

But don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Rabastan 😉

taglist: @lovelykat001, @carmenschemtrails, @lolalleins, @fangirl-swagg, @batboysanonymous, @watchmerora, @iheartnostalgia, @simars3, @elizabethblood9, @unstable-cucumber, @holholliday, @itisjustwhatitis

[rigordoll]

Sweetheart.

contains: college!AU, RE2Leon x Fem!reader, friends to lovers, kissing, suggestive at the end. This will have eventual smut in a future pt2!

I'm not an expert writing, English isn't my first language but interactions, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! enjoy :3

When you started college you were scared as fuck to be honest. All your teacher's from high school and even your parents told you that college was hell and it was a completely different environment for you, that you must be very careful and not go trusting in every person in your way.

They weren't wrong about it but to be honest college wasn't so bad as they pictured it. Yeah, there was some weird people that you wouldn't approach to them even if you got payed to do it but they didn't mess with you or something.

You would say that college was almost like high school if you weren't failing almost every subject in your first semester, that was definitely the hell part. However, you managed to improve in the second semester and it went 'easier' for you, at least you weren't failing anymore.

Well, actually...

You were failing mathematics.

Imagine your face when you saw the test and realized you didn't know a shit about algebra, you were most definitely cooked.

It was hard as fuck and no matter what, you wouldn't understand it. Thank God you had Leon, he was the first person that approached to you in college and since then you sticked to his side.

He was such a sweetheart and helped you a lot, made the study sessions more bearable with his incredible bad jokes and actually explained to you what you didn't understand in the class.

Even right now when he was seeing your test and explaining you why your answer were wrong so it wouldn't happen again.

"Now, seriously, what the hell went through your mind to think that this was the correct answer?" Leon said without looking at you, he was focused reading your failed test and he genuinely looked offended at whatever you put on there.

"It's not that bad! give me that." you said with a huff, taking the piece of paper from his hands and put it into your bag without much care.

"Oh it is bad..." He said with amusement, if he dared to laugh at you, you would punch him in the middle of his perfect face. "But hey, seriously... you need to get a better grade in the next test." Leon said softly. "You can come over to my room and I'll explain you the basics." He offered.

Leon always offered to help you with your studies and he actually did explain well. It's just that you sometimes didn't pay attention to him.

I mean, you did payed attention to him, just not to what he was saying...

In your defense, being alone with Leon in his room was an appealing idea... Just not to study. You wouldn't lie, you may have a little crush for him since the beginning but you always pushed those feelings aside because he only saw you as a friend.

"You mean, later today...?" you asked, raising a brown with curiosity which caused him to roll his eyes. "no, later next year. Of course later today, silly." Leon said with amusement and you huffed at him. "But it's friday..." you already had plans, going to a party, drink, dancing and maybe hook up with a guy and pretend that it was Leon. Last part is clearly a joke, don't do that! but anyway, college life is good.

"I don't care, see you at 6pm." He said playfully before leaving.

Fuck him, but you did wish that it was in the literal sense.

You were standing in front of his door and it was actually 7pm, ops.

but in your defense, you were busy getting ready to the party since you were lazy as fuck to to go to Leon's room then go back to your room, change your clothes, doing your make up and then go to the party, it would take her ages.

Before you could even knock the door, Leon had already opened it and it took him a moment to scold you for your tardiness since his cold blue eyes were roaming your figure and taking in your clothes option, now that was short skirt but the top was pretty, it was his favorite on you even if he never told you.

Leon cleared his throat before looking at you with a serious expression playing on his face. "first of all, you're one hour late. Second of all, why are you dressed like that?" He asked with curiosity, stepping aside to let you in before closing the door behind you.

"There is a party tonight at 9pm..." you said softly with a shrug before sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at him.

"I see, I hope that you don't drunk call me at 3am." He said playfully while sitting on the desk chair that was beside the bed. Anyway, he knew that if you called him he would pick you up without thinking twice but that isn't the matter here..

"I don't promise you anything.." you said with a chuckle while looking at him, he was dressed in grey sweatpants and a blue random shirt but damn, his biceps were on display. Focus, hoe!

Leon smirked at your answer and shook his head with amusement before searching for his notes. "Let's just get started with this so you can go to your party." He said softly.

An hour passed by with him explaining you the basics and teaching you how to do some exercises.

Honestly, you were having a bit of trouble focusing when he looked so fine and smelled so fine, you always wondered was cologne he uses because it smells heavenly. You also noticed him stealing some glances at you, more than usual.

Maybe it was because he was staring at your thighs and at how soft your skin looked... or maybe he was staring and your chest everytime you leaned closer to him to see what he was writing. he was most definitely having the time of his life when he caught you staring at him with pretty eyes while biting your pen before snapping back to reality and noticing how dumb you probably looked. He wouldn't call it dumb tho, more like hot but hey, he never said this.

"I think I got it, look." You said softly, passing him your notebook where you have just finished a exercise. Leon took notebook from you, his fingers grazing yours but seemingly completely oblivious of it.

He took a moment to check if it was good and you waited there patiently, when you heard a soft hum from him, you leaned closer. your head next to his and you rested your chin on his shoulder. "is it good?" you asked quietly.

Leon turned his head to look at you and now his face was mere inches away from yours. His eyes went directly to your lips and it took all his willpower to not kiss you right there since you were looking absolutely gorgeous there staring at him with doe eyes and glossy lips slightly agape.

Leon licked his lips and quickly looked back to your notebook. "Yeah, it's good." He said softly before looking back at you, you were smiling and looking at your book in his hands.

Leon didn't know why but his heart was beating against his chest, his hands felt sweaty and suddenly the room felt a lot warmer now, is the AC working or what the hell?

The tension was in the air and you when you met his gaze, you noticed his rosy cheeks and dilated pupils while he stared at every detail of your face. Suddenly, you remembered why you liked him. It's those cold blue eyes that look into you with intensity and adoration without failing.

You both just stared quietly in each other's eyes, none of you said anything or did anything even if your bodies were betraying both of you and itching for being closer to each others warmth.

It was such a comfortable silence, a silence that spoke volumes.

So it didn't surprise you when you hear the words. "I really want to kiss you." coming from Leon's mouth in a quiet tone as it was secret that he was telling you.

You just took a heavy breath while looking at his pink lips before nodding at him. that was enough for him to understand, he always understood your silence even if that happened rarely.

To be honest, you felt so cozy and warm when his lips touched yours. you swear that you felt butterflies in your tummy when he started to kiss you slowly, taking his time with you and his hand going to cradle your face.

It felt so right, Leon wonders why he didn't do this before. Why didn't he kiss you in every chance given?

It didn't took long before you were beneath him on his bed, kissing each other and exploring each other's body through the layers of clothes.

It seems like you weren't going to that party anymore... Leon's much better that any guy that you could found there anyway.

HEYYYYYYYYYY, I'll leave this here.

I'll probably make pt2 later that will included an attempt of smut since I still figuring out all this write thing, but anyway, enjoy!

(I'm taking requests BTW)

[michanvalentine]

Good morning, people! Good morning, lovers of wild ramblings!

Today, I feel like talking about Spawn Astarion again because, honestly, I just don’t get it. Let’s talk about the mask—that damn mask of Astarion. The one he apparently keeps firmly in place even in his "good" ending. Because he feels the need to hide, because Neil said that in the evil ending, he takes it off, etc. So, by that logic, Spawn Astarion is just a façade.

This topic of the mask is truly fascinating in general, in my opinion. It’s very deep, connecting to psychology, philosophy, and even literature. I mean, it’s not a new subject—far from it—and it has been discussed forever. Most importantly, it’s something that concerns all of us, whether we’re aware of it or not.

"One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand." A novel by the Italian author Luigi Pirandello (playwright, writer, and poet, awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1934), which revolves around the concept of the mask and how each of us wears one depending on the social context we’re in. At home, we act one way, at school another, with friends yet another, and differently again at work. We behave one way with those we like, another way with those we don't. And when we're alone, we behave differently yet again. We are different in each of these situations. In psychology, this ties directly into the concept of the self and how the ego reconciles all these facets to create a unified sense of personality.

I’d also like to point out that, beyond the perception we have of ourselves, there’s also the perception others have of us. Which one is true, and which one is false? They’re both subjective, so how can we distinguish absolute objectivity?

Now, back to Neil’s statement. First of all, the context needs to be clarified: this is about the actor's performance—the two different ways in which Astarion moves and speaks, the general attitude he has toward the world and others, and the approach Neil Newbon had to develop to bring his character to life.

"With Lord Astarion, we talked a lot about the idea that the cover is now off completely. So that you see him at his most terrible, and it's completely honest and he doesn't have to pretend anymore. So he loses a lot of the flamboyance and the fun of the theatricality, which is all a distraction anyway."

Ascendant Astarion no longer needs the cover. He is completely honest, and this is undoubtedly the worst version of himself. We see him at his most terrible. But what cover are we talking about? Where was this mask that Ascendant Astarion no longer feels the need to wear?

"That's all distraction so you don't see how he's hurt and damaged and his vulnerability. Lord Astarion doesn't need that anymore. So we just thought, okay, now mimics taking off a mask it's off. He doesn't need to pretend, he doesn't need to do too much. It's all about the status and that kind of stuff."

So we’re talking about the mask that covered the wounded part, the vulnerable part—the most human part of Astarion. The part that Ascendant Astarion killed during the ritual.

Ascendant Astarion feels free, powerful, and untouchable (feels, a subjective perception, always to be considered in relation to the opposing force—I can confirm that stabbing him atop the Absolute was quite easy, much to his surprise and disbelief; and if I’m not mistaken, he can even be forced back into slavery if one doesn’t intend to share the power of the brain with him). He no longer needs to use that mask because the part of him that needed hiding no longer exists.

So, keeping the context and the thread of the discussion, it follows that spawn Astarion—who has chosen to embrace his vulnerability and the most human part of himself—sometimes still needs the mask to protect himself. Which is perfectly understandable. That doesn’t mean everything he says or does is fake. Or that he’s constantly trying to please others. I genuinely don’t understand how people are connecting the dots in this way.

If anything, he behaves exactly like any person who has been hurt. We all do it, whether we realize it or not. A silly example? Who hasn’t, at some point in their life, made a joke about their own physical flaw (or any other personal insecurity) to diminish it and take away its power? It’s easier to laugh about it than to admit outright, "I don’t even want to talk about it because it makes me feel bad!" Does that make us fake? Meh...

Let’s take the Mind Flayer scene, for example. Astarion doesn’t find them attractive (but I bet all of us in real life are married to Mind Flayers, right?), yet he tries to be kind when expressing that. Is he faking it? Is he trying to please the other person? Absolutely not. He’s behaving like a normal person who considers the other person’s feelings and tries not to hurt them (otherwise, we’re venturing into sociopathy). That’s something to be admired. It’s not like he’s forcing himself to sleep with a Mind Flayer just to appease Tav. He’s simply being kind to someone who means something to him—as he should be.

And come on, I even read somewhere that in the graveyard scene, he’s too perfect, too accommodating to be real, ready to say and do all the right things! Because obviously, with that relaxed expression and those bright, sweet, emotion-filled eyes, he’s faking it! It has to be an act!

Aren’t we maybe exaggerating just a little?

And if we really want to go there, it’s not like Ascendant Astarion has many opportunities to build relationships or establish useful connections with the important people in Baldur’s Gate without having to "work them" a little. He, too, is subject to One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand—in the sense that he still has to navigate society.

[writingdevil]

hiiiiii! Thank you for the Tongues and teeth and for every additional ask you wrote after that. Soooo interesting! I would love to see your take on skeptic / opportunist if you don't mind. It might not be romantical, anything you're comfortable with really. Have a good day!

(Thank you! I really like Skeptunist and I was debating for awhile on whether to write something for them, but they also felt like a ship that would be tricky to write for, but I'll try my best for you! Enjoy!)

Skeptic was never one to back down from a mystery, or the challenge of figuring out a complicated question. The journey from the beginning to the conclusion, watching as logic took control and let all the pieces fall into place, was an experience that Skeptic loved every single time.

This extended to his flock as well. There was just something about watching the way his flockmates lived, now that they had their own freedom and forms, that intrigued Skeptic. Why did Cheated get so angry at every little thing he deemed an injustice? Why did Contrarian spend his whole day goofing off and cracking jokes at anyone who would listen?

His fellow birds were an enigma that he wanted to solve as well, as a way of understanding them, and his latest subject was Opportunist.

If Skeptic took a step back to observe all the others with their odd behaviours at once, Oppy was the one that stood out to him.

He was never outwardly malicious or cruel, but everyone at this point knew that he was merely pretending so that he could get the upper hand. But why? They weren't trapped in a cycle of death anymore, so what reason would Oppy have for keeping up appearances? He looked like someone doing a one man play, but there was no audience to watch him.

Except Skeptic. He wanted to understand why Oppy behaved the way he did, because for as tricky and annoying as he was, he was genuinely an intriguing person, in Skeptic's opinion.

Oppy had a habit of just appearing in front of people and talking their ears off, and while most others would bat him away, Skeptic had started hearing him out, and even going so far as to seek him out to spend time together.

Once Skeptic started listening and taking notes on Oppy, he realised that, on the surface, Oppy would go through a cycle of talking about himself and then commenting and complimenting Skeptic on his intelligence.

At first, it sounded like a whole lot of nothing. It just looked like Oppy was still attempting to cosy up to people for his own benefit, and Skeptic was about to write him off as a self serving fool, but then he stopped himself.

Why?

Why did Oppy insist on acting like this, when it's been proven that there's no danger, therefore no need to grab control over others?

Skeptic had a few theories, ones that ranged from a secret intense insecurity, to an obsession with staying ahead of everyone else. Either way, Skeptic was determined to peer behind his mask, to see what it truly hid.

So he started engaging with Oppy more, actually listening and offering his own perspective to topics. It was actually-fun, to talk to someone who thought in a similar way to him, who used logic in different ways.

Skeptic used logic to understand the world around him and all his questions. Oppy used logic to understand the people around them and what their goals were. It was just different enough that it had Skeptic yearning to understand Oppy's mind even more, to the point where Skeptic was actually starting to look forward to spending time with Oppy.

He liked being around Oppy. He liked being around a sharp mind who appreciated the way his brain worked, and who actively enjoyed listening to Skeptic ramble about his many theories-to the point where it made his heart start to beat faster.

The realisation didn't dawn on him until he found him replaying Oppy's words in his head-'I never would've thought of that,Skeptic. You have such a brilliant mind, Skeptic. You're truly as smart as you look, Skeptic.' Just Skeptic, Skeptic, Skeptic.

Oppy kept saying his name in that sugary sweet tone, and Skeptic started to crave the taste of it, and he wouldn't even care if it was poisonous. He liked the way Oppy thought, the way he crafted his words perfectly to the person, the way he was perfectly in control of his image, whereas Skeptic always felt like he was a frenzied mess everyday.

So-he had fallen for the backstabber, and he had somehow come no closer to seeing his true self in all that time. What was meant to be a calm and controlled observation and investigation, had diverted into a mess of feelings that Skeptic hadn't a hope of deciphering, so he went to the only person who could possibly understand-his brother, Smitten.

But what his brother told him in response to his woes was advice, and suffice to say, Smitten's suggestion was worth testing out.

So, one day, he decided to.

"I've got the cards, Skeptic!" Oppy announced, already sitting at the kitchen table and waving a deck of cards in his hand. Skeptic had asked to play a few rounds with Oppy, one of many activities that they found themselves doing together. But as Skeptic walked into the kitchen, he abruptly halted, pretending to look confused, patting down his feathery body, until eventually Oppy asked, "What's wrong?"

Skeptic sighed in frustration, impressed by how well he was doing. He glared at the ground in annoyance and said, "Nothing. I just forgot my notebook, is all." Skeptic always carried a notebook with him in case he suddenly had an epiphany about anything.

He had barely finished speaking before Oppy was up and out of his seat, handing the deck to him as he said, "Let me get it for you, friend. You sit and deal the cards." Skeptic smiled in success as Oppy quickly walked away before he could protest, his need to feel useful to others coming in handy right now.

A few minutes later, Oppy returned, sitting down and sliding the book over to him while also managing to pick up his whole deck in one hand. Oppy's eyes scanned his cards, and Skeptic saw a flash of excitement that he rarely witnessed in Oppy.

Oppy genuinely liked playing these games with people, no matter how much it involved his skills of lying and bluffing.

Skeptic's eyes lingered on Oppy's face, before he shook himself out of it, placing one hand firmly on his notebook. "Thank you, Oppy," he quietly said, Oppy looked over his cards to give him a big smile, and Skeptic found that he liked it, no matter if that was the whole purpose of the mask.

"Don't even worry about it. If I was thinking as deeply as you do on a daily basis, I feel like I'd be allowed to let some little things slip." Although Skeptic wasn't actually one to forget things, the words still reassured him over something he wasn't even aware he worried about.

Oppy placed the first card down, and Skeptic couldn't wait any longer, and made his move.

His hand shot out, not to put a card down, but to place it over Oppy's hand, gripping it gently as he firmly said, "Really, Oppy-you're very kind."

He could feel the way Oppy tensed up underneath him, and when Skeptic looked up at him, he found his smile frozen inbetween confidence and shock, making him just look nervous and terrified now. He could practically see the way his eyes clouded over, his mind probably searching for the correct act to sell him to allow him to stay on top of this.

But Skeptic wanted to push this further, so he gave Oppy's hand a little squeeze, and that was when he saw Oppy let a small gasp out, his face falling into such a soft expression that Skeptic wondered if Oppy had even realised he had let the mask fall.

But it only lasted a few seconds, as Oppy blinked, and a cold calm washed over him. He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he went, "No,"and tried to pull his hand back, but Skeptic just tightened his hold on him.

Oppy finally looked up at him, but it was with such a wide and intense look that it made Skeptic's feathers bristle. Oppy chuckled emptily, and now Skeptic was just wishing for Oppy to be dramatic or performative, because that would be so much better than the defeated expression he wore.

"No," Oppy repeated, "we're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Don't do that!" Oppy snapped, his smile trembling in rage and his voice bordering on a yell. "Did Smitten put you up to this?"

"He didn't exactly put me up to-"

Oppy rolled his eyes with a harsh sigh. "I'm not stupid, Skeptic. I know what you're doing." Oppy's smile turned cruel and sharp as he nodded towards his notebook. "I know you've been studying me and my habits. Read it on the way here," he admitted, but it was as if he was happy to reveal that to Skeptic, to admit to the invasion of privacy.

But Skeptic knew that Oppy would look through his notebook. He hadn't cared, because he had nothing to really hide.

Skeptic kept his voice calm and level, giving Oppy's hand a reassuring squeeze, to which Oppy tried and failed to hide his reaction to, but Skeptic heard the quiet yet sharp intake of breath.

"Oppy, it's true that I was-observing you, but that was because I was trying to figure you out."

Oppy hummed. "I know," he replied bluntly, "although, I'll have to mark one of your theories as incorrect. I am in no way touch-starved-"

"Smitten begs to differ." Oppy tensed up at the mention of the passionate bird, and Skeptic warily watched as Oppy balled his free hand into a fist on the table. The silence was beginning to suffocate Skeptic, so he explained,"Smitten just told me that it seemed as if you really enjoyed touch and being praised-"

"No!" Oppy snapped, shaking his head with a disbelieving and nervous chuckle. Skeptic wasn't sure if Oppy realised he was accidentally squeezing his hand for comfort, but he wasn't about to say anything. "No," he repeated, panic now evident in his eyes, his mask cracking more and more, "no, that would be ridiculous. Me? Be desperate to have someone treat me like a pet? You scheming brothers must have me confused with Broken, because I would never let myself be so weak and pathetic-"

"It's not a bad thing," Skeptic softly insisted, stunning Oppy into silence. Skeptic refused to break eye contact with him as he lifted up their joint hands, showing how tightly Oppy was clutching his hand. Oppy stared as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "It's okay to want people to appreciate you and to make you feel loved. You're not weak for wanting that."

Oppy shook his head, but Skeptic leaned closer and said, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I wasn't treating you with respect. I genuinely just wanted to figure out how you worked, because then I could learn how to be a better friend to you-I'm not very good with assuming what the right thing to do is."

With every word he spoke, he saw Oppy's anger and mortification slowly dissipate, until he just looked tired, his feathers still puffed up in caution.

"I don't think-" Oppy quietly said, so quiet it could be considered a whisper, "-I don't think I'm very good at-accepting stuff like that. I'm not used to it, and that scares me."

Skeptic chuckled softly. "It scares me too, if I'm honest." Oppy looked up at him in surprise, and Skeptic found that he couldn't look away as he continued, "But I'd be happy to practice it with you."

Skeptic was waiting for the moment that Oppy dismissed him, that he regarded him and Smitten as a threat to his safety now, and distanced himself from them. Skeptic didn't want that, but the longer the silence went on, the more he was sure that was going to be the case.

He was busy trying to ignore his heart crying out in protest, when he felt it- a single squeeze back.

His head shot up to look at Oppy, who's face was flushing deeply as he refused to look anywhere near Skeptic. "I'm willing to test it with you," he mumbled, but it was more than loud enough for Skeptic.

Mask or no mask, Skeptic just wanted Oppy, and he would be sure to give him all the love he deserved.

[dustofthedailylife]

Genuine question because what I found online is conflicting and I just don't know what people mean by it anymore.

What does "pro-ship" actually mean?

Some define it as: "One who supports a specific ship��or shipping in general." While others define it as: "One who supports a ship or shipping deemed problematic (e.g., due to incest, age differences, abusive dynamics, etc.), and/or believes in the freedom to create and consume fanworks with such elements."

Which one is it?? Are they interchangeable definitions, how am I supposed to know what is meant? /gen 💀

Help this lost girl over here out because... I am confusion.

[otrtbs]

this isn't gonna make a lick of sense if you haven't seen the tiktok of the girl talking about the hunger games fanfiction she read where a tribute gets gifted a machine gun but i'm sorry .... i'm rocking with fanfiction that's "implausible" like, wdym??? wdym a tribute with a machine gun makes you want to quit the story because it took you out of the fanfic???? it's just getting good bro. strap in. things are about to go wild in that arena. "it's not believable :( " if i wanted believable i'd read the actual published book. go ahead and throw renee rapp into the arena while we're at it, i wanna see where this goes.

[zuzu-draws]

4-armed Sukuna Appreciation post!! These were my favourite OG Sukuna panels from the latest chapter.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

one more teaspoon of salt, tho it's more moody and navel-gaze-y this time

remember when i still enjoyed nie huaisang as a character... remember when i wrote meta just about him and did deep dives into his character in both the novel and cql....

what else do the die-hard nie stans plan to take from me 😢

[thanatologie]

you know what, tho, i think i actually hate the fanon idea that i've seen cropping up that emmrich is...honestly i can't think of another way to put this - domineering in private like we don't literally know what he's like in private? like we don't literally see that exactly?

is he putting on his best manners at first? yes! because he's getting the side-eye from like 90% of the veilguard just because he's a necromancer. does he have a dark side? literally everybody has a dark side, we call those flaws.

but this is a nerd who gets himself so wound up and flustered and excited and ahead of himself he manages to go from whatever smooth casanova he can pull off to stumbling over his words, unable to form a coherent sentence (more than once!). who thinks "i've been up for an hour," at the ass crack of dawn is some weird flex. who tells you about ghost vapor booze and how he won't table top because there are too many rules and miniatures. he's a dork who is so damn besotted he watches his love interest sleep like they hung the sun and moon. who leans into soft touches like he's been starving for it his whole life.

who does this shit when he gets frustrated:

where's that rizz now, huh. (side note: he's so damn tall, and taash still manages to make him look so damn tiny, and i live for it tbh.)

my point here is sometimes people are just nice. being nice doesn't mean never being frustrated or angry, it doesn't mean that if they finally do show being frustrated or being angry means they're secretly hiding some whole other...disposition for some? reason?? it means they have these things called emotions, and they show them sometimes, and it's the nice ones finally getting fed up that's always the pin drop moment.

please stop trying to make emmrich volkarin edgy, literally the only thing edgy about this man at all is his life goal to become a skeleton.

[thelivingsin]

it's normal to be disappointed when you learn that your dreams are already dead. but just like a phoenix, our death will lead us to our own rebirth; and like a supernova, some deaths are beautiful.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Today, I read a book.

It was one that my mother had been pestering me to read for a while now, telling me that it wasn't like anything she had ever read before - not with adoration or embellishment, my mother isn't that kind of person. She stated it as fact. I didn't believe her, because that is quite the statement to make to your child who has read many-a books. But, I was at my grandma's and at a loss for what to do because my laptop simply wasn't calling to me, so I brought it out of my bag, where it had stayed over the past couple of weeks. I finished it only fifteen or so minutes ago, not having put the book down aside for eating. I understand what my mother meant, now. I don't think I'll be able to sleep until I blurt all of my thoughts about this book somewhere. So, here I am. Imploring you to read the book, and if not - just to listen to me talk about it. I truly do plead that you read this book, because I am highly certain that I am not fully here as I write this, stuck in a world between fantasy and reality as I contemplate everything and nothing. I do not think I will be able to sleep tonight. Not well, anyway. I completely skip out of a lot of things, but I need to talk about it or I might never sleep the same again (this is not me being dramatic, I swear). This book is just how my mother described it: hard to describe, and entirely something else. Do read this book. I'm telling you, you will not regret it. If you won't? Then allow me to tell you about Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern. (In the reblog, because it's too big otherwise)

[rutadales]

people who participate in hate-fandoms need to get an actual hobby I'm so serious 😭 not to be a hater but for the love of God log off. genuinely humiliating to be spending that much time caring about something that makes you so miserable that is ultimately so meaningless

[musical-chick-13]

I mean. I guess the good news is that I am now 100% sure I'm not in love with Her™ even a little bit at all anymore, but like. At what cost.

[brittlebutch]

finding a character that grates against your nerves and eventually thinking, well, that's not fair, you haven't done anything; why do i dislike you? and then you dwell on this for a while and discover 'oh! you are like me when i was younger' and decide well, i'll simply learn how to love the both of you. power in this.

[swordsonnet]

maybe i'm missing something here, but it always confuses me when i see things like "some autistic people are disabled by their autism and some aren't" or "not everyone sees their autism as a disability". because... autism very much is a disability?! if you're autistic, then your symptoms must be present in a way that is disabling to you in your everyday life. it's literally in the diagnostic criteria. of course the extent to and areas in which you're disabled can vary greatly depending on the individual, but disability is part of the basic definition of autism, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter.

don't get me wrong, it's still much better than "autism is only a disability because of capitalism" because at least it doesn't make sweeping generalisations that aren't even remotely accurate to the lived reality of most autistic people. but it still perpetuates incorrect assumptions under the guise of personal choice, and honestly feels like an attempt to distance autism from disability in general. being disabled is nothing to be ashamed of, and i wish people wouldn't twist the meaning of autism to remove disability from it.

(and yes, that goes for level 1/low support needs autistics as well. i would be considered level 1 (though i wasn't diagnosed that way) and i'm still disabled by my autism! not to the same extent as many other people, sure, but i'm still disabled. if i wasn't, i wouldn't be autistic.)

[astracora]

No wait I'm rewriting this to get my feelings out.

First of all, CN confirming that Caleb and MC were adopted, beyond being incredibly questionable and completely defeating half the fandoms arguments of 'gege is just a cultural thing' because. it's no longer just cultural, it is a legally binding contact that ties people into a family. If they weren't legally adopted that would make sense, but mixed with the LEGAL PROCESS and the term 'brother' makes it very family-lense. Is so fucking foolish, my brain hurts.

Because you can't just dissolve an adoption, its actually harder for an adoptee to cut ties with their adoptive family than it is for bios to do so. There are far more things in place for biological families to severe ties. It's also easier legally to do so. It certainly doesn't magically disappear just because someone died? That's actually ridiculous??

But also, its incredibly traumatic as a process to try to dissolve an adoption, and normally sits on the adopters shoulders to do, and pretty much always has to come before the process is finalised. You can't just go through every legal process, and then go 'actually changed my mind' and file some paperwork? There's an entire legal system in place... And even if it was easy to do. MC has LOST their family to death, and now is being told they don't HAVE family, because legally they're being shoved aside by a system that irl (while has its place), is incredibly corrupt???

In what world would a person face waking up one day, to a TEXT mind you, saying 'yo ur no longer bound as family to the only people who took care of you, godspeed, have a great day, oh ye pick up some paperwork I guess so we can really finalise how alone you are.'

You can complain about the translation all you want, but the way CN has framed adoption in general is disgusting, and the way it's being treated as a plot point actually makes my blood boil a little bit, and I think EN did the right thing in fully fucking ignoring it.

CN needs to get consultants, because adoption is already treated as either some peoples saviour complex, or some kind of subpar way to shove some kids into your family (because you have to i guess???). This entire thing is fucking ridiculous.

Also you can take this as Caleb critical if you like (it's not, it's PG-Critical if anything because I play the game and I'm not MC, and I don't think I am MC when I play), but he's also not a real fucking person, and he doesn't have to hear some of the shit people say about adoptees and live with it digging into his chest like a criticism of everything he can't control.

So maybe, just maybe, we need to stop making jokes about adoption dissolution, and give the 'they're not blood siblings so its ok' shit a rest. AND MAYBE, we need to just accept y'all can like Caleb, and still criticise things, because critical thought is actually a really good thing to practice.